Take This Silver Lining
by LithiumKiss
Summary: The year is 1648 and Gilbert Weillschmidt wants a colony of his very own, but what he finds instead is completely different. Germancest.
1. Of Findings and Little Brothers

**A/N: Oh no - I now know this is a total mistake - I really shouldn't start a new story when I haven't got another one finished. BUT STILL! I'm going to break my own rules. I finished Replaced Replacement yesterday and in celebration I have decided to post the first chapter of a new story I've been working on for about a month or so. I am a HUGE fan of Germancest - it's practically my OTP next to Russvia - so I wanted to start from the very beginning - the end of the Thirty Years War. I must warn you that this has slight historical accuracy, but some things will probably be down right wrong due to this being fanfiction xD but I'll try my hardest. **

**As I was writing this, I was wondering whether it will be Germancest or GerIta. I know, I've become pedestrian! I've allowed my little heart to love Germany/Veneziano. My sister will only read GerIta (and some LietPol) because otherwise she just doesn't like Hetalia. Crazy, I know! But anyway, I just don't know. I'd love this to be Germancest but I also think it could work as a GerIta (that's just me because I know the storyline already xD). **

**So basically, this story will follow a time line; some historical events will probably be skipped because of certain characters and their roles in this fic, but then again, I like history and I'd prefer it to be somewhat accurate, even if I just allude to it. **

**Well, without further ado, I'll introduce you to "My Heart Is Your Home" (_Mein Herz ist Ihr Haus_)**

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**I do not own Hetalia**

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**Chapter One: Of Findings and Little Brothers  
**

_"Life...is boring," Gilbert Weillschmidt declared dramatically, sword pointed skywards. Gilbird chirped in affirmation and flapped his wings. "If only we had something to do." _

_The Prussian had only lived a short amount of time in the world, and in that time he'd battled (extremely epically, he must say), conquered and claimed. But he was missing something. His friends Antonio and Francis, had little colonies trailing after them, of which looked up to and respected them in everything they did. Gilbert wanted one, and once he got his hands on one, he or she would be the most awesome colony in the entire universe and he would be the envy of all his friends and acquaintances. _

_"Kesesese...hells yeah. Watch out, world, Gilbert the awesome will rule all some day!"_

_As he hacked and swiped his way through the forest foliage, he heard a strange noise and paused. He looked to his left, his right, over his shoulders, down on the ground and through the space between his legs. He straightened up and quickly spun around, ready for an encounter, causing Gilbird to chatter angrily as he lost his balance. _

_"Sorry little guy - I thought I heard something..."_

_A rustling in the bushes to his left caught his attention. He aimed his sword defensively at the bush and waited. The leaves quivered and Gilbert took a cautious step towards the offending bush. _

_"Alright, whoever or whatever you are; show yourself to me immediately!"_

_A black shape emerged first, and it looked to be a hat of some kind. It rose a few inches higher and out peeked a pair of bright blue eyes, one of which was sporting a purple and green bruise around it. They were the eyes of a child and once Gilbert realised this he lowered his sword and held out his other hand. _

_"Hey there, come on out. I won't hurt you." _

_The person stood up to his full height (they were only at least a head taller than the bush) and stepped out. Gilbert saw that they happened to be a boy, and a very _cute_ boy at that. He crouched down slowly so he could take a better look, but the boy took a startled step backwards and pulled out the sword from his belt. Those eyes widened with terror and Gilbert was confused as to what he should do. He decided, after raising his hands in a "I Won't Hurt You" gesture which caused the boy to swing his sword in his direction, that speaking to him would probably be the best course of action. _

_"Will you tell me your name?"_

_The boy shook his head and the hat fell off his head, revealing a mop of golden-blond hair that was matted with blood. _

_Young, cute, and injured, ready for Gilbert's heroism!_

_"Come on, I'm not going to harm you. I just want to know who you are so that I can help you." It was obvious that he had been wounded and badly traumatized by something. Gilbert knew of the war that had only been over a fortnight - could this one be many of the victims? _

_"I don't have a name," the boy said in a soft, gravelly voice. Gilbert's could have sighed at the sound, but kept himself in check. He was the saviour, after all!_

_"That makes things a little difficult. Do you remember where your home is?"_

_The boy shook his head. That was his answer for the next few questions Gilbert asked. The Prussian did actually sigh that time, though for an entirely different reason, and cupped his hand over the shoulder Gilbird was perched upon. He scooped the little yellow creature up into his hand and held him out for the boy to see. _

_"This is Gilbird. He's a lot smaller than you, isn't he?"_

_"Yes."_

_"See? Now, if I was a big, mean, bad guy, I wouldn't carry around such a fragile bird would I?"_

_"I-I guess you wouldn't."_

_"Alright then." Gilbert beckoned the boy forward. "Why don't you hold him? I'm sure he'd like a new friend."_

_The boy slowly lowered his sword and took a cautious step towards Gilbert's outstretched hand. Gilbird chirped and flew onto his shoulder, making himself comfortable on the tattered robe. _

_"He shouldn't be able to fly with those tiny wings."_

_"Gilbird is a very special bird - he can do anything."_

_The boy smiled slightly before his face twisted into a solemn expression. "I really don't remember where I came from - I don't remember how I got here." The Prussian's protective instinct kicked in when he started to sob. He reached out and held onto the other's free hand, about to tell him he would be alright when an idea struck him. _

_"I can help you. Well, I can give you a home at least." Gilbert would have himself a colony!_

_"I couldn't..."_

_"I live by myself and I feel its time I had some company; so yes, you could."_

_Those blue eyes lit up with hope and before long, Gilbert was carrying the boy on his back, Gilbird perched happily on top of his head._

_"Oh, just for the record, don't tell anybody about what I said about Gilbird or about not being a big bad guy. 'Cause I'm the biggest bad arse around!"_

_The boy giggled and Gilbert's heart melted. He was so adorable and he would have him all to himself. _

_

* * *

_

_Love was a weird and wonderful thing. People sought after it all the time, sometimes for their entire lives. People died for it, fought for it, bled for it, and more often than not, it was a master of evasion. _

_Even though Ludwig (a name that Gilbert believed suited the boy down to a T - besides, he had to have an awesome name to be introduced with) had not been Gilbert's brother (his true brother, bonded by blood), he loved him as though he was. He hadn't come to realise it until one night when there was a thunderstorm and Ludwig had run all the way from his room into Gilbert's. He'd said that even though he couldn't recall the faces or names, he'd always had somebody there to comfort him during storms - shyly he confessed that he was terrified of them. Gilbert was able to comfort him, soothe him into sleeping, and there was an instinct thereafter to always make sure he could comfort the young boy. _

_Protective instinct became a very familiar friend to Gilbert later on. Ludwig had woken up, distressed, frantically telling the Prussian that there was a little girl in a green dress and maid's apron that he remembered and he didn't know if he had created her in his mind or if she was real. The description Ludwig gave Gilbert sounded familiar, but he decided not to pursue that inkling. Could just be someone he saw in the streets one day or an illustration in a book. _

_One afternoon, Roderich, a good friend (although not the best - his days of rebelliousness had long gone and now all he was concerned with was playing music and reconciling marriages with Elizabeta. Gilbert hated her - she was everything a woman should be on the outside, but she was truly a daemon on the inside, and she just grated on his nerves and the list could go on and on) invited him over for some afternoon tea. Gilbert hated tea, but it would give him a chance to brag about Ludwig. _

_He hadn't known their brat, Feliciano, would be there, and that's where he remembered the little girl dressed in green. Although this time, he was actually wearing clothing suitable for a young boy. The chestnut brown hair and hazel coloured eyes weren't easy to mistake._

_"I-It's you!" Feliciano said, pointing at Ludwig. "Holy Roma--" Roderich had covered his mouth and led him away. _

_"Now, now, Feliciano. We do not point at others. It's rude."_

_"Gilbert, who was that? Why did they know me?" Ludwig whispered after Roderich disappeared around the corner. His little hand was tugging insistently on the Prussian's coat._

_"Don't worry." Gilbert knelt down and placed a firm hand on his shoulder, trying his best to keep his voice soft as to not alarm the boy, even though the rage inside him was boiling over. "It's nobody."_

_"But that face. I've seen him before but I can't remember."_

_Thankfully, Gilbert thought begrudgingly, Elizabeta came along and offered to take Ludwig out for a walk in the garden. _

_It was time Gilbert and Roderich had a long discussion. He stormed down the hallway and around the corner where Roderich had disappeared just minutes before. There was another shorter corridor and at the end there was a door. Gilbert had a good feeling Roderich was behind it. Behind that door, though, once he had reached it, happened to be Feliciano's room. Roderich was tucking him in for his "siesta." _

_"Hey!"_

_The Austrian shot him a bitter look and put a finger to his lips, demanding him to be quiet. Gilbert complied only until the door had been shut and they had reached Roderich's music room._

_"What the hell was that all about, huh? That kid doesn't know him!" _

_Roderich sighed and closed the door to his music room. He walked over to his piano and ran his fingers lightly over the riddle of black and white keys. "Your Ludwig used to be the Holy Roman Empire. He never returned after the war - he promised himself to Feliciano, Gilbert."_

_"Like fuck he did."_

_"Watch your mouth, Gilbert."_

_The Prussian snorted indignantly. " Well, you're just going to have to tell Feliciano that his beloved Holy Roman Empire is _not_ my little brother. He can't remember and I don't think he ever will."_

_Gilbert didn't know why he was so angry. Perhaps he didn't want Ludwig to associate himself with anybody else lest he forgot just who picked him up off the ground and gave him something to live for every day. _

_"There's more to it than that--"_

_"No! No, there's not Roderich! Ludwig... he's not this Holy Roman Empire anymore. He's part of me now, and I'll make him great."_

_A part of him wanted Ludwig to have no memory of his past. What if he went away to pursue what he once had? What if he didn't want to be Gilbert's little brother anymore? Gilbert would not have that happen - Ludwig was too special a person to him._

_"I love him, Roderich. Isn't that enough for you?"_

_"That's a dangerous thing to make known to others, Gilbert. It's alright to confess it to the actual person but people are cruel, Gilbert. They'll use it against you and--"_

_"Fuck you, Roderich! Seriously, go to hell. No one is going to use the fact that I care about him against me. What good would it do? I would use my awesome to kick their arse and then leave them to rot. Nobody fucks with me and nobody will lay a finger on my little brother."_

_With that, he stormed out and slammed the door as hard as he could behind him. _

* * *

_Five Years Later..._

"I wish I had some paper and a pen with me," Antonio said wistfully, seemingly to no one, as he stared out onto the silvery-blue surface of the lake.

"Why?" Gilbert asked belatedly. He had been concentrating on his little brother who sat on the water's edge with a home-made fishing rod - a stick, a piece of string and some wurst tied on the end - which didn't seem to be working well at all. He loved the stern look of concentration on his face; he appeared to be so grown up. His bright blue eyes looked as though they had seen a lot more than Gilbert had at that age.

"Because." Antonio rolled onto his side, propped up on his elbow. "I want to remember the look on your face. Your smile shows that you're completely enamoured - it's not a sneer, it's real." Those cinnamon eyes were laughing at him.

Gilbert swiped at Antonio's arm hoping he would be able to knock him flat onto his face. "What of it, huh?" He scowled, a little more than just embarrassed.

"You clearly love that little boy," a voice laced with a thick, luxurious accent chimed in. Francis sat down beside Gilbert, an amused look on his face.

"Careful - I'll yank your stubble and then you'll be in deep shit," the Prussian muttered, pointedly avoiding both his friends' eyes, suppressing the blush that threatened to colour his cheeks. "He's awesome, just like me."

Both Francis and Antonio chuckled. "At least he hasn't inherited any of your modesty, _mon cher_. He'd be as shy as a white rabbit."

"I wish Lovino was like your Ludwig, Gilbert. He's so angry all the time," the Spaniard said with a hint of regret, yet it was clear to Gilbert that he wouldn't trade the little Italian brat for anybody. That, and Gilbert wouldn't dare think of giving his brother away.

"What do you expect? You let him run riot all the time - you have to pull out the punishing hand and really give it to him, especially 'cause he's at that age."

"Gilbert! You don't hit Ludwig, do you?"

"Are you insane? No! Fuck no. West is an amazing kid and he's so obedient. All the time. Hey West!?" Gilbert raised his arm high up into the air and waved at Ludwig, who promptly looked back at his fishing rod as if it was a thousand times more interesting than his older brother.

"Ah, _mon Prusse_." Francis put a strong, unwelcomed arm around Gilbert's shoulders. "You're an affectionate old soul. You're not as brutal as you might think you are."

"And you're not as sexy as you think you are," Gilbert jibed, managing to shirk Francis' arm.

"Speaking of Lovino," Antonio began, sitting up to stretch his arm, "Roderich should be arriving soon. He's bringing Feliciano with him. I think it's time Ludwig meets Feliciano, Gilbert - we talk about him all the time and he gets curious as to who he is."

"Ah, you know what? I've got major business with Leo soon so the awesome must take his leave. Come on, West! I don't think there's any fish today!" Gilbert got to his feet hastily and dusted the stray pieces of grass from his coat.

"You always run away, Gilbert. Is there something wrong?"

Gilbert pretended to fuss over the grass stains on Ludwig's pants so he wouldn't have to meet the expectant look on his friends' faces. "I hate Elizabeta, that's all. I'd really rather not argue in front of West."

"Elizabeta doesn't always come along. Is it Roderich?"

"No! Alright, West. Now you know it's perfectly alright to speak when we have these gatherings..."

"Gilbert."

The Prussian sighed in defeat and told his little brother, with a gentle, reassuring squeeze on the shoulder, to run on ahead for a while. Once he was out of earshot, he turned sharply to Antonio and Francis, glowering at them darkly.

"Don't you think I know what goes on inside Feliciano's head? Huh?" he hissed vehemently, looking over his shoulder to make sure Ludwig was still far enough away. "I know he thinks West is his beloved Holy Roman Empire, but West doesn't remember and I want it to stay like that. I won't have him upset, got it?"

"Gilbert, one day--"

"No! Not one day, not ever! Ludwig is mine, and he is who he is now, not what he was back then. He's a whole different person now."

"_Mon cher_, you're being selfish. You're not listening." Francis stood and looked Gilbert in the eye.

"No, you're not listening, Francis!" Gilbert stepped forward and shoved him away, causing him to stumble backwards.

"Hey, Gilbert--"

"Shut up, Antonio! Stay the hell out of this! West is my little brother. If any of those people cared about him they would have tried to find him first. They would have made sure he came home to them. He's now on his own two feet because of me, and not them." Gilbert breathed in raggedly and rested his hands on his knees. He softened his voice slightly, the tiniest bit of guilt creeping up on him for arguing with his two best friends in the entire world. "I love West with everything I have and I will do everything in my power to protect him. In time it'll be inevitable and he'll eventually run into Feliciano, but not now, not when I can help it. His wounds are still raw and some days he wakes up forgetting who I am even though it's been half a decade already. So don't you two dare tell me I'm selfish or that I'm not listening. I'm doing this for him."

Without listening to their retaliation, he straightened up and turned on his heel, running after Ludwig to catch up to him. He scooped the young blond into his arms, even though he was probably just a little too old to be held by his older brother, but he really needed to be able to show him he would always be his support, his crutch.

"Are you angry with them?" Ludwig asked, worry dancing behind those crystal-like eyes.

"Gott, no, West. Just a bit of a misunderstanding. Friends bicker over stupid stuff sometimes. Hey, we gotta do something about that hair of yours. You have these wicked 'chops but your head looks like a bowl." It really did look like a bowl - or a field mushroom. Perhaps he could wear it slicked back? Yeah - that'd suit his awesome little brother.

Ludwig hid his smile behind a stern pout - he knew Gilbert was right, and his older brother knew he didn't mind being teased. He always made sure he never went too far, though. Ludwig was still fragile, and perhaps he always would be.

* * *

_**TBC.

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**Notes:**

**"Leo" - Leopold I, Son of Ferdinand III (King: 18 July 1658. Ended 5 May 1705)**

**The Thirty Years War had ended in 1648. Five years after this (1653) the Franco-Spanish war was still being fought, so I realise that the BFT (Bad Friends Trio) wouldn't have been together in those days. However, I really, really wanted the BFT in there and their relationship is kinda shaky in this first part so there you have it. Historical inaccuracies all the way! xD**

**I hope you all enjoyed the first chapter. I guess the question is, do I continue? Reviews would be greatly appreciated :3**

**Until next time...**

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**_Next Chapter: Of Growth and Companionship _**


	2. Of Growing Pains and Teenage Troubles

**AN: I'm glad people liked this :D it made me happy to see so many people added it to their favs and alerts - special thanks to those who reviewed! Each and every word made me smile. **

**This chapter takes place over at least over 100 years - OH GOODNESS! That sounds like a lot, doesn't it? But really, much of the same thing happens over that period of time (Austria vs. Prussia, Prussia & Austria vs. France, Prussia & Austria vs. Denmark... etc). **

**So, I took some advice and decided to introduce the members within the German Confederation: Saxony (Siegfried or Sigi), Baden (Berend), Bavaria (Baldrich), Hesse (Harald and Hariric) and Wurttemberg (Witold) not including Austria, Prussia, Luxembourg, Denmark (who will be referred to as Mathias in this fic - the fandom name suits him well, I think and that's why I'm using it) and the Netherlands. Why? Because it plays a very little role in my story, and I kind of wanted the six to be Ludwig's brothers xD so it's sort of an insight into the family at the time. **

**So I hope you guys and gals enjoy this chapter! (Yes, I did decide on a new chapter name).  
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**Chapter Two: Of Growing Pains and Teenage Troubles**

At this rate, Gilbert thought to himself as he watched Ludwig shakily get to his feet, I'll never get anywhere. The Prussian was contemplating that perhaps having a colony at this point in time wasn't the greatest idea. Of course, he promptly chastised himself - Europe was burdened with pockets of conflict everywhere, and what better time to bring up an awesome colony? In the midst of war, Ludwig would be able to flourish and become a true conqueror like Gilbert. However, he couldn't help becoming bothered by that shred of guilt that was constantly on his back. He remembered how Ludwig had been that day when he'd found him and he was in no way ready to step into another conflict, even though he insisted that he was brave and strong.

"Is that hill getting a little hard for you now, West?"

Ludwig shook his head and as if to prove it, he ran to catch up to Gilbert, giving him a somewhat modest 'I Did It' look. Gilbert could see his shoulders and chest rising and falling heavily as he caught his breath, but pretended not to notice. He placed his hand on his shoulder and led him back home, telling him he did well.

In the past it had been worse. After a particularly long adventure or battle or training session (which Gilbert rarely conducted; he only did that when he thought Ludwig needed to build up his strength which he seemed to have boundless supplies of) Ludwig would cry and tell him it was too hard. Eventually, the tears stopped coming and Gilbert stopped hearing complaints, not that Ludwig complained much to begin with.

Raising a young boy was definitely harder than Gilbert had first anticipated. Ludwig started doing things for himself as he grew older and soon enough he had his own land and his own civilians. Gilbert would have been worried had Ludwig not come to him every once in a while to ask for help. Roderich had also lent his hand, but more often than not Gilbert was fighting with him rather than beside him, especially once he'd claimed Silesia as his own. Francis and Ivan were also on his back. It became difficult for Gilbert to give his little brother his attention all the time, which caused a very unwelcome tension between them. Before he knew it, Ludwig was in his troublesome teens so everything the Prussian said and did was misinterpreted by him. Luckily, though, their arguments were short-lived and Ludwig told him he respected and loved him no matter what.

"Gilbert, why is it that you're always going to war with Francis? I thought you two were friends?" Ludwig asked once they got inside.

Gilbert couldn't be bothered to make it to the lounge area so he made himself comfortable and sprawled out on the carpet instead. Ludwig lay down beside him and together they stared up at the ceiling, a long silence settling between them.

"Well," Gilbert started, linking his fingers together and resting them on his stomach. "We are friends. We both love bloodthirsty battles and to put it simply, we have nothing else better to do other than try to conquer each other's land. The awesome can't just sit around and do nothing. You should know that by now, West."

"But...people die, Gilbert," Ludwig said sternly, softly.

Gilbert turned his head to the side to see crystal blue concern in Ludwig's eyes. His mouth was set in a straight, unyielding line and Gilbert couldn't help but chuckle.

"West, that's what happens. Your civilians follow you to battle to fight for _you_. It's their choice and nobody else's. That's what it's like being a nation, West. I know it's difficult but you have to understand these things and take them as they are."

"So you don't care about them? They're your people, Gilbert. You should care more." Ludwig's frown deepened and Gilbert sighed slightly in defeat. So it was going to be one of these nights tonight?

"Of course I care, West. But you have to understand that what they're doing is a huge honour to the individual and the nation. I'm proud of those that have spilled their blood for the sake of my name. It doesn't have to be a tragedy."

Ludwig said nothing and rolled over so Gilbert could no longer see his face. "You're heartless."

"Oh, West." The Prussian smirked and rolled onto his side, placing a gentle hand on the back of his brother's head. "Don't say things like that. If I was heartless I wouldn't have taken you in."

Ludwig grumbled in response. "You always use that."

"But it works, doesn't it?" Gilbert moved his hand down so he could poke Ludwig in the ribs. The German jolted slightly and made a small indignant noise that told Gilbert he was holding back a laugh. "Come on, West. Who's the best big brother in the world, hm? I know you know the answer." His fingers became relentless as he tickled Ludwig more.

Ludwig let out a strangled chuckle, still trying to resist. "Stop that," he ground out, trying his best to remain resolute.

Gilbert gave his ribs one last poke before latching himself onto his brother's back and put a strong arm around in front of him so he was effectively trapped. "I'm not stopping until you tell me, West. And you know what I'll do if you refuse to answer me." This was one of Gilbert's favourite games in the whole world. Almost better than battling and invading vital regions.

Ludwig stopped wriggling. "Don't you dare," he warned firmly.

Gilbert smirked into his hair, completely amused. "_Who's the best big brother ever_, West?"

"Not you."

"Alright then, whatever you say." He leaned forward and licked Ludwig's ear before sucking on it, making the skin as disgustingly wet as possible.

"_B-Bruder_!"

Gilbert cackled as he was pushed backwards with a ridiculous amount of strength. Ludwig scrambled to his feet, his cheeks flushed a brilliant shade of crimson. He was furiously wiping his ear as he ran away and disappeared down the hallway. Gilbert heard the door slam and figured he'd best apologise. Ludwig was getting overly sensitive of late and he reasoned that he probably just embarrassed the poor kid. Damn hormones, huh?

"I'm sorry, West. Come on, it's time for dinner." Gilbert knocked on his door and stood there expectantly.

"Get lost, Gilbert."

"Come on, don't be like that. I was only teasing you."

"Go away, I said!"

Gilbert leaned against the wall and folded his arms. He could be just as stubborn as Ludwig when he had to be. "I'm not going anywhere until you come out of there."

"That's your problem, not mine."

The Prussian had been Ludwig's age not too long ago, so he knew there had to be something troubling his little brother. Gilbert was always frustrated with something or another but he didn't care if he was being obnoxious - he didn't have a big brother or other family to answer to, just Antonio and Francis, who were equally as bad.

"Well tell me what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong."

"_Ludwig_."

"Go away and leave me alone. I'm not talking to you."

Gilbert pushed himself off the wall and scowled in exasperation. "Alright fine, I'm giving up." He stormed back down the hallway and went to his own room and out onto the terrace where Gilbird was happily splashing about in his birdbath.

"If only you knew what I was going through, buddy," Gilbert sighed, jealous that his little friend was able to be off in his own little birdy world and didn't have to worry about the trials and tribulations of having a hormonal younger brother. The ball of yellow down chirped at him and he scooped him up and placed him on his shoulder. It was surprising what amount of comfort a small little creature like Gilbird could give him. It reminded him that not everything had to be complicated, and the best things in life were the simpler things, more so than the drastic. "What would I do without you?"

* * *

Problems, it seemed, were never-ending for Gilbert. Not only was Ludwig still determined to remain on non-speaking terms with him, but they had a gathering with their other six brothers that morning. Gilbert would have bragged and said that he had more relations than that bastard, Arthur Kirkland (admittedly, Gilbert had to bite his tongue when it came to his personal opinions about him - he was one of his damn Confederates), but he really, really didn't like them. And that was putting it mildly.

The Prussian finally managed to coax Ludwig out of his room to have a ridiculously silent breakfast with him and within the hour they were out of the house, ready to see the others.

"Your brothers are looking forward to seeing you, West."

Gilbert never really referred to them as his brothers even though, technically, they were. Even so, Gilbert had his own logic that they were all part of his brother's Confederation, not his own. Which turned out to be illogical anyway, because he himself was part of his brother's Confederation. But he supposed he could be counted separately because he was so awesome.

Ludwig offered his answer in the form of a terse grunt and continued to walk at a faster pace. Gilbert rolled his eyes and had to run to catch up with his brother. Once he did, he reached out and put his hand on his shoulder, pulling at his jacket to effectively slow him down until he finally stopped.

"I'm sorry about yesterday, alright? I don't think it was really something to get so worked up over, but hey." Gilbert shrugged and Ludwig turned around, giving him an annoyed grimace. "I'm apologising anyway, so let's just forget it."

"Alright," Ludwig grumbled, crossing his arms over himself.

"Can we be friends again?" Gilbert pressed, giving him a slightly hopeful grin.

"Obviously."

"Alright then. Come on; give your big brother a hug." Before Ludwig had a chance to agree or refuse or respond in any way, Gilbert pulled him into a tight embrace. Eventually Ludwig reciprocated the hold and muttered something about Gilbert being an idiot. The Prussian had to fight back the urge to chuckle at the red blush on Ludwig's cheeks that he found so irresistibly cute when they pulled away to continue on their way.

* * *

"We should follow _Herr_ Bonnefoy's example! He knows what he's doing!"

"_Herr_ Bonnefoy is, for lack of a better word, a maggot. He doesn't have a clue what he's doing. And in any case, why should we follow somebody else's example? We're more than capable of setting our own, Berend."

"He isn't so bad, you know."

"By not so bad, do you mean he's just a worm instead, Baldrich?"

"No-not exactly..."

"Come off it already, Sigi. Hey, Witold, what do you think?"

"Er...?"

"It's settled! Wit agrees with me."

"Alright, listen up lamewads." Gilbert eventually got to his feet, managing to speak over the useless rabble, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger as he did so. It was rare that Gilbert got frustrated (always be the offender, never the persecutor - it was more fun that way) "Whatever you do or don't say, 'Bissy's making the decisions, not you guys. And did any of you think to actually ask West?"

"I wish you would actually use Ludwig's proper name, Gilbert."

"He can call him whatever he wants, Sigi," the otherwise silent Hessian twins, Harald and Hariric, chimed in.

"Anyway," the Prussian ground out, raising his voice once again, "you guys have next to no respect. Thank Gott most of you will be gone once the unification happens."

Of course, Gilbert's statement caused uproar and it was an hour before everyone started to calm down. Ludwig hadn't said a word since the beginning when he said his hello's to his brothers. Gilbert had noticed he was absent-mindedly staring at nothing, his eyes troubled by something. Obviously he was still unhappy about something, and Gilbert made it his mission to find out exactly what it was. Worry was an unpleasant feeling, and it happened to be eating away at him an unimaginable amount. Not even the constant telling himself that it was probably just the fact that things were changing and he was having to deal with a shit load of work - much more than he had to in the past.

The meeting ended as every other one had in the past. Each of the brothers were tense, refusing to speak to or look at one another. A bunch of idiots, Gilbert thought.

"Sorry about that, West. You didn't have to deal with them - I should've probably considered letting you stay at home."

"Forget it - it's over and done with now," Ludwig said casually with a shrug of his shoulders.

Gilbert smirked and pulled his brother into a tight hug, feeling that elusive urge to do so 'just because', halting Ludwig in his tracks. "You can tell me anything, you know that right?"

"Yes," the German grumbled, trying to wrest himself away. "What's with you lately? You're really needy - this is the _second_ time today."

Gilbert cackled. "Needy? Naw - I'm just exercising my right as an older brother to be annoyingly affectionate towards my younger brother." He squeezed his arms around Ludwig tighter and poked at his spine in attempt to make him respond, and eventually he did for a brief moment before telling Gilbert to get off. "Alright, West. Promise I won't do it again. Until tomorrow, that is."

Ludwig scowled and his blush deepened but he was unable to keep the small smile off his face. "You shouldn't make promises you can't keep, you know."

* * *

Gilbert sat happily on his high horse as he watched his - _Ludwig's_ - brothers get beaten into the dust, or submission, rather. Good old Bismarck made good on his word and Germany was revolutionised, but Gilbert was still allowed to hang about, just to make sure everything was in it's place and running smoothly. Ludwig was still only a kid in his eyes, but he'd definitely become a fighter over the past few years. Even so, Gilbert still didn't bother him with the issues concerning Mathias being a complete jerk. The Dane was so completely un-awesome, but he wasn't called the King for no reason.

Unfortunately for Gilbert, in the following years, he had to come down off his cloud and face the music - ironically enough. Things weren't exactly going as smoothly as he had hoped (why did Roderich insist on being such a pain?) and he wondered when things were going to settle down. Would they ever settle down? For the time being, he had to sit back and watch and assure Ludwig everything was fine. Bismarck had it all under control. Trust old Bissy, West, he knows what's going down...

The pink and violet clouds started to melt into one another as the sun sank lower behind the horizon line. Gilbert was standing outside in the hallway, hands clenched into angry fists as he peered inside to observe Ludwig and Roderich in the guestroom. The Austrian had come over, lead by the necessity to see how Ludwig was progressing (Gilbert thought to hell with his damn necessities, why should he get whatever he wants? It was still _his_ house, after all, not Ludwig's, and they weren't technically on good terms), and somehow they had ended up going upstairs so Ludwig could listen to Roderich play their piano. Gilbert had no idea why they even owned the instrument; he himself never played and Ludwig had shown no genuine interest. Well, that was until Roderich started to play. He had heard his brother mention that he drew music from the keys so naturally, so beautifully, and Gilbert almost gagged.

He watched as Ludwig stood beside a gently swaying Roderich, both absorbed in the piece the Austrian was playing. His fingers moved along and pressed down on the keys with such fluidity, such grace, it was hard not to be entranced, but any of those feelings that Gilbert may have been experiencing momentarily were immediately pushed aside - Roderich's skills weren't enough to make Gilbert ignore the small pang of jealousy he felt when he saw the way Ludwig watched him. His eyes were...what was that word Antonio used all the time? They seemed to glow, completely..._enamoured_, by Roderich. His gaze was unwavering, and whenever the pianist paused in his playing, he would lean forward slightly, as if in suspense, waiting to see if he would continue. When Roderich looked up at him, Ludwig would blush slightly - Gilbert wouldn't have noticed had he not been concentrating so intently.

The Prussian took a hesitant step backwards, unsure of whether or not he wanted to continue observing the two. He brought his hand up to his shoulder and held out a finger for Gilbird to nibble on so he would keep quiet.

Gilbert decided he didn't like the idea that his little brother had those kinds of feelings for Roderich. Why else would he look at him like that, if he didn't like him? Ludwig was his little brother, his to love and protect, so how would he be able to do those things if he gave himself to somebody else? Gilbert reasoned that it was just his protectiveness kicking in, but he couldn't stop the monster of jealousy that had started to riot within him.

But why Roderich, of all people? Of all _nations_? He honestly had no idea. Well, he had several ideas but none of them actually made sense. Ludwig must have known how things were between them (Gilbert made a point of making it clear on more than one occasion everyday), so why would he allow himself to get attached to Roderich?

Although he really wanted to burst in and tell the Austrian to get the fuck out, he knew it would be of no use and would only serve to make things worse. He willed himself to be satisfied with knowing that they weren't doing anything, that Roderich appeared to be making no advances and that Ludwig was not confessing, but it was so damn difficult. There wasn't really anything to worry about, but that didn't make Gilbert worry any less. He wondered whether it was wrong for him to feel like he did, and he guessed that it probably was, but when it came down to it, he just could not help it. Perhaps it was a little natural for a sibling to have a crush on their other? Ludwig had grown into a really, very handsome young man and he had been strong and Gilbert deeply admired that, so surely that's all it was?

Well, why the hell did he feel so bad?

"That was wonderful, Roderich," Ludwig said softly, causing Gilbert to gain his grip back on reality. He picked Gilbird up off his shoulder and held the small yellow fluff-ball to his chest, trying to bring himself some comfort.

"Oh, no, it was nothing, Ludwig." Roderich stood up from the piano stool and placed his hand on Ludwig's shoulder. "But thank you. There isn't anything quite better than music, is there?"

They both smiled warmly at one another and Gilbert turned away sharply, making his way down stairs.

Alright, Eidelstein, the Prussian thought to himself, scratching the top of Gilbird's head as he did a little birdy shuffle in his hand. This means war.

* * *

_**TBC.**_

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**_**More bloody notes: **

**Bissy - Otto von Bismarck. I bet Gilbo has a soft spot for the good old Iron Chancellor! It's funny - in my first year of senior high school when I was studying modern history, I hated the subject where we had to do a case study on Bismarck. But he did a lot of great things for Germany. If I had known of Hetalia back then I probably would have really enjoyed it. Trust me, Hetalia made modern and ancient history really fun in my final year of senior high xD  
**

**So, this chapter has ended at the beginning of the Österreichisch-Preussischer Krieg (Austro-Prussian War) of 1866, after the Revolution of 1848. Prussia was getting too big for his boots and Austria didn't like that he was becoming more powerful - in a very small, itty-bitty nutshell. The real drama will be warming up in the next chapter. It's nearing a fateful meeting...**

**Sorry to skim over the history again, but this is for entertainment value and not a history lesson - can you imagine how long this would be if I put each and every historical event in? I wanna get to the juicy bits, damn it! xD**

**Until next time...  
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	3. Of Worrisome Wars and Flirtatious French

**AN: There's not a whole lot to say about this chapter...well, alright, there is, but it's mainly historical notes which you can locate at the end of this chapter (if you make it that far that is). **

**This chapter is in Ol' Loodvig's perspective. Actually, I had been pronouncing Ludwig's name how it is literally spelled, being the larrikin that I am, despite the fact that I know 'w's are said as 'v's in that area of Europe. And usually I'm so politically correct xD **

**Anyway, I would like to thank you all again for the favs, alerts and reviews. You guys and gals are awesome!  
**

**So, without further ado, I give you chapter three. **

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**I do not own Hetalia**

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**Chapter Three: Of Warrisome Wars and Flirtatious Frenchmen**

"Don't be mad at me, West. Roderich deserved to have is arse kicked and look; I'm barely injured."

"But what about Roderich?"

Ludwig hadn't known the extent of Gilbert's stupidity until very recently. He went to war for reasons he believed to be completely justifiable, but in the end he didn't gain as much as he claimed. He was always angry at his friends, at his neighbours and wasn't satisfied with anything. But when they were together, just at home by themselves, Gilbert was completely different. Of course, he was still lewd and obnoxious, but he was happier, and a lot calmer.

Even so, Ludwig still felt somewhat uneasy when they were alone. He respected his brother beyond anything else, cared about him and loved him, yet these feelings exceeded their limits and the German had no idea why. Gilbert had helped him heal, had protected him, and had aided him whenever he was able, so of course Ludwig felt indebted to him; he owed him his life.

However, as he grew older, as his views on the world changed, as his mind and body changed, so did his feelings for Gilbert. He started noticing how handsome the Prussian was. Those crimson coloured eyes no longer frightened him; they entranced him and Ludwig had to carefully avoid them just in case they saw too much. His embraces were no longer just comforting; they brought them closer and Ludwig could feel his toned muscles pressed against him, especially in the summer months where heavier clothing wasn't needed. The touch of his hands also stopped bringing him comfort; the skin his palms and fingers had touched was left tingling and warm.

Ludwig couldn't help but overreact to Gilbert's playful actions, afraid of what his brother would think if he knew - things weren't the same as when he was younger. Now, he was older, able to stand on his own two feet and manage his own civilians, his life and land. Gilbert didn't need to be by his side, but Ludwig couldn't imagine him not being there.

Ludwig shook his head, sighing as he finished wrapping the bandage around Gilbert's wrist, realising belatedly that his brother didn't 'give a fuck' about the Austrian. "What was it over this time?"

Gilbert rolled his eyes and attempted to pull his arm out of Ludwig's grasp but to no avail. He winced and seemed to realise he wasn't able to fight. "Roderich got his panties in a twist because I have all the power here. Also, I thought it was time he was put in his place. He's not part of our family, he never will be and that's the end of it, West."

It was Ludwig's turn to roll his eyes. "I know that, Gilbert. But it's as though you hate him even more now than you ever have."

"He's un-awesome, West. He always has been. Plus, he lacks the common sense when it comes to Elizabeta. You know, the hag with the frying pan?"

"She's not a hag, Gilbert."

"Whatever. Alright, West. We're done here."

Ludwig looked at his brother with hard eyes, making it clear that he was in not the least bit impressed. Gilbert huffed and slumped back into the chair. "He's influencing you too much, West. He's always hanging around you and you're getting to be too much like him." Gilbert's eyes became angrier with each word and Ludwig had to suppress the laugh that was tickling his chest.

Was Gilbert..._jealous_?

Ludwig knew he liked to control everything, but surely jealousy was beneath somebody like Gilbert? The fact that he was jealous because Roderich was getting too close to him made Ludwig blush a little - he pretended he didn't like Gilbert's possessive side when in all honesty, it was the exact opposite. It was as though Gilbert wanted to be the one and only person in Ludwig's life, and the German didn't mind it one bit.

"I'm not like Roderich at all."

"You like his music and his company, though," the Prussian said sulkily.

"That doesn't mean anything. I like Roderich - he's a good friend."

"Alright, alright. Let's just leave it for now - we've gotta get ready to meet the guys later. It's been a while since we've all been together and I can't wait to see them."

It was Ludwig's turn to be a little jealous. Gilbert often talked about 'the guys' - Francis and Antonio. When they got together, it was as though Ludwig didn't exist - they took it in turns to speak one another's languages (Ludwig could only understand a little bit of French), and when they did speak German, they talked of things Ludwig had no clue about. He suggested on more than one occasion that he was glad to stay at home by himself, but Gilbert insisted that he wanted Ludwig to come along; they all enjoyed Ludwig's company. He doubted that very much, but because the Prussian was so insistent, he had no other choice. He loved to spend time with Gilbert more than anything else, and being around his friends revealed another side to his brother that he didn't see when it was just the two of them. Still, he didn't take too kindly to being ignored.

"Antonio! The very sunshine of my life!" Gilbert exclaimed in a ridiculously loud voice when they reached their meeting place. They greeted one another with a kiss on the cheek which caused Ludwig to blush slightly. Despite the very warm welcome, Gilbert's expression soured considerably. Ludwig followed his gaze until he spotted Francis and another blond man standing by the lake's edge, face-to-face, engaged in what appeared to be a passionate discussion.

"What's he doing here?"

"Gilbert, be kind. Arthur's not doing too well. It's been a long time since Alfred left him - could you imagine what it would be like if you had to go to war against Ludwig only to have him leave you?"

Ludwig felt Gilbert's hand come to rest upon his shoulder. He could see both Antonio and Gilbert's eyes sadden in understanding, and Ludwig couldn't begin to imagine what it would be like if he had to fight Gilbert - to turn around and leave afterwards was completely unthinkable. He wanted to take Gilbert's hand, to promise he would never leave him, for he had given him too much already, but he couldn't bring himself to do it in front of the Spaniard.

The three of them sat down on the grassy hill, Gilbert and Antonio losing themselves in conversation, pretending that their friend wasn't arguing with somebody who couldn't even be considered an acquaintance. They spoke mostly in Spanish, and Ludwig just listened to the words, defining them from one another, when each sentence stopped and started, but only half heartedly. His eyes watched Francis and Arthur as they yelled at one another, as Francis extended his hands to Arthur, as Arthur rejected him only to be defeated. He allowed himself to be touched a little before backing away until they were at least an arm's length apart.

Once Ludwig had asked Gilbert why Francis hated Arthur so much. Gilbert had explained that it had always been that way for as long as he could remember. They were always fighting about one thing or another, but as Gilbert put it, they definitely had 'a thing' going on. They were as close as two nations could be but they let pettiness come between them much too often. It wasn't hate, exactly - it was difficult to explain. Ludwig could have mentioned that it sounded just like the relationship he had with Roderich but he thought better of it.

Ludwig found himself wondering whether there would ever be a time where nations didn't have to go to war with one another. Presently, he couldn't see it happening - it seemed the whole of Europe was riddled with battlefields, including his own country. He had only just overcome the civil war with Gilbert's help.

"Having a pleasant dream, West?" Gilbert's mischievous voice cut through his thoughts. Francis and Arthur had joined the trio and it was only then that Ludwig realised how out of place Arthur really was amongst them. Francis and Gilbert had started picking at one another whilst Antonio was trying to get them to calm down. In comparison to the three of them, Arthur's language was strange, some of his words seemed similar to ones he'd heard before. He was rather short and he would have been rather understated had it not been for those enormous eyebrows. He'd heard Gilbert make fun of them a lot and in all honesty, Ludwig didn't think they were that bad - once the shock of seeing them for the first time wore off, that is.

"No, no, _mon Prusse_. You are wrong - the Rhine and Alsace-Lorraine are mine. Your Bismarck cannot do a thing about it," Francis said with a haughty laugh, as though it was the most insignificant thing, just a little personal joke between friends.

"Not in your wildest dreams, _Frankreich_. Seriously, what are you thinking? Haven't you learned anything? I will kick your arse - _again,_ mind you - and you'll be sorry. Just give up already."

Ludwig rolled his eyes and excused himself, saying to anybody who may have been paying just a little bit of attention to him that he was going to take a walk.

Sometimes the German became frustrated with himself. He thought that he should be able to remember what had happened before Gilbert found him, but he couldn't, no matter how hard he tried. All Ludwig could recall was waking up next to a dead soldier who had dark oozing bullet wounds on his left arm and side of his neck. Ludwig had got to his feet, his head and body aching with every movement he made, and he ran as fast and as far as he could. He found refuge in a cluster of forest that hadn't been burnt by gunpowder and fires and had managed to fall asleep until he heard a strange, almost chilling laugh which he soon found out belonged to Gilbert. The time before that was a blank mystery - not even snippets came to mind, only sometimes he dreamed of a small girl in a green dress and maid's apron with the pinkest blush on her cheeks, calling out a name that was completely foreign to him - not even in his head could he make it out.

Gilbert told him not to worry about it; it could have been something he read in a book once and his mind was playing tricks. To make him feel better, Gilbert would say he had no idea about his childhood, not many grown-up people did, but Ludwig knew he was lying.

Sometimes Ludwig got the feeling he was better off not knowing about his life before Gilbert. Had fate wanted him to reconnect with his past, it would have allowed him to remember something, a particular day or name, but there was nothing of great significance left inside his mind. Gilbert was his life now, and the relationship he had with him was the most important thing to him now.

Ludwig looked out onto the surface of the lake, catching his reflection. He smoothed a hand over his slicked back hair, pushing a stray strand back into place. Time had gone so quickly, and it seemed he'd grown overnight. If he looked close enough, he could see a resemblance to Gilbert, albeit a very distant one. He may have been imagining it.

The reflection of another person appeared on the water and Ludwig looked up to see Arthur standing beside him, a solemn look on his face. The German had no idea what he should say to him, so he just said what he deemed to be the first appropriate thing that came to mind.

"Arthur Kirkland's your name, isn't it?"

The other man nodded belatedly and turned to Ludwig, a slightly apologetic look on his face.

"And you're Ludwig Weillschmidt?"

"Er, well, yes."

Arthur quirked an eyebrow. "You don't sound too certain of your own name, lad."

"Gilbert gave me my name, is all. I may have had a different one before," Ludwig admitted awkwardly.

"Ah, that's alright." He extended his hand and Ludwig took it a little hesitantly.

Arthur seemed distantly familiar, but Ludwig had seen him on a few occasions before which explained the strange feeling he got when he looked at him.

Arthur smiled sadly and put his hand in his jacket pocket. "That's one of the great things about having your own colony - you can name them anything you wish."

Ludwig wanted to ask about the Alfred Antonio had mentioned but decided it wasn't his place. From the look in Arthur's eyes, Ludwig knew that Alfred, whoever he was, was a very important individual to him and losing him must have been hard. Ludwig wanted to say that perhaps Alfred and he would come together again in the future, but what did he know?

"How do you like being what you are? It's not really as glamorous as Gilbert's probably made it out to be."

"It's strange, I admit. Gilbert makes it sound as though war's the best pass time in the entire world."

Both Ludwig and Arthur chuckled at this. "He wouldn't be saying it if he wasn't as successful as he has been."

"Successful or just lucky?"

"Yes - the bastard definitely has luck on his side." The Brit turned to look over his shoulder and suggested that they should go back to the others.

Ludwig agreed when he saw Gilbert on the ground with a hand covering the lower half of his face and Francis standing over him. They were both laughing at one another but Ludwig could see the fury in the Prussian's crimson eyes. He helped him to his feet and they said their goodbyes quickly. Ludwig noticed the miniscule hole in Arthur's earlobe that matched with Antonio's and wondered with a little amusement that perhaps he was more like the others than he had first thought.

"West, we're going to war with Francis," Gilbert declared as he looked at the blood on his fingers. "We're taking back what's rightfully ours and you're going to have to make demands otherwise he'll walk all over you."

Ludwig wanted to say that he didn't want to go to war, but the Rhine was too beautiful not to fight for. Also, Ludwig hadn't really had the chance to fight alongside Gilbert and he always felt a sense of regret whenever he told Gilbert it would be better if he went alone. He asked himself, just this once, wouldn't it be worth it? Especially when it was for something that was important to them both?

"We'll show Francis and his beloved Napoleon that they just can't mess with awesome, right West?"

"Right, Gilbert."

* * *

For the first time in a very long time - perhaps for the first time ever - Ludwig was proud of himself. He had always given Gilbert a reason to believe he thought highly of himself, or at least he had tried to, but now he didn't have to pretend. His industry had exceeded Arthur's and his navy was only second to his as well. He felt a little bad seeing as Arthur always seemed to be struggling to get through his days, but Gilbert assured him that he would get over it.

Even though he had the issue of the Entente trio, Francis, Arthur and Ivan weighing down on his shoulders, Ludwig had his own allies - Austria, Hungary and Italy (although he knew Roderich and Elizabeta well, he hadn't had the opportunity to be introduced to the mysterious Italian twins who Roderich mentioned from time to time, and whenever Gilbert happened to be about he would tell the Austrian to shut up when he thought Ludwig wasn't listening, which confused him to no end) - and his own house, which turned out to be pointless as Gilbert visited him on every other day when Ludwig wasn't visiting him. The Prussian insisted on him having a place of his own seeing as he was now known as the German Empire. An Empire, West! Gilbert had said. What do you think of that?

"I feel uneasy," Ludwig admitted to Gilbert one evening as they headed back to Gilbert's abode. "Francis and Ivan are boxing us in and it's as though all they do is keep their eyes on us."

Gilbert chuckled and placed a firm hand on his head, ruffling up his hair affectionately. "They're jealous of what you have. You're a potential threat to everything they've worked for over endless centuries - you've gained your power in the past few years and it looks all too easy to them. I think you have to look at things through more than just your own eyes, West. Come on, I'll race you the rest of the way. Bet you won't be able to catch me!"

As it turned out, Ludwig had just that extra bit of agility that Gilbert lacked and was yards in front of his brother in moments. Eventually, the heat from the summer sun slowed him down and Gilbert had the opportunity to pounce on him from behind. They fell to the ground with a thud and Ludwig let out an indignant yell whilst Gilbert cackled relentlessly.

"See? The tortoise always wins the race, West."

Somehow whilst Ludwig was struggling to get to his feet, trying to banish the shameful warmth that spread through his body at the close contact, Gilbert had repositioned himself so when Ludwig was unaware, he lunged for him again and managed to pin him down. He chuckled victoriously and leaned down, just to tease Ludwig mercilessly.

"Get off me, Gilbert! You're the most immature person I know," Ludwig growled with little conviction.

"You know you love it, West."

Ludwig had no idea what possessed him to do what he did after that. Perhaps after all the long years of teasing, of having to keep what he thought and felt to himself, it all came rushing to the surface and broke. He pushed himself upwards and pressed his lips to Gilbert's momentarily, regretting it almost immediately. He heard Gilbert's subtle shocked intake of breath and pulled away, leaning back down on his elbows.

"West," Gilbert said weakly, as if he was trying to fill the gap of deafening silence that had settled between them. He brought a hand up to his mouth and actually wiped his lips. Ludwig was suddenly faced with the reality of what he had just done and tried to get up.

"Sorry, that was stupid," Ludwig muttered, feeling more upset than ever when he realised he wasn't able to escape from Gilbert's hold. After what seemed like an eternity, Gilbert moved and Ludwig got to his feet in record time.

"I don't...think any less of you, West."

Ludwig wanted to look at Gilbert's face just to see if he could find some sort of meaning behind those words but he didn't dare. His cheeks were flushed, his body was too hot and he just needed to take back the past five minutes.

"Gilbert!"

The awkwardness was sliced through and forgotten when Baldrich and Berend, looking troubled and flustered, came barreling towards them.

"Hey what's going on?" Gilbert responded without a moment's hesitation and only Ludwig was able to hear the note of relief in his brother's voice.

Baldrich put his hands on his knees, completely out of breath. "I couldn't find you at your house."

Berend wiped the sweat off his brow and continued his brother's sentence. "We looked everywhere - this is really urgent."

Ludwig felt a heavy uneasiness settle inside of him at the look the three of his brother's eyes.

"Archduke Ferdinand's been killed!"

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**TBC...

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**I think you can all guess what's going to happen in the next chapter. :D**

**And sorry - there was no flirtatious Frenchmen and Francis was fairly contained TT_TT - speaking of which, _Frankreich_ = 'France' in German :3  
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**So anyway - the first chapter of this section began at the end of the Austro-Prussian war and ended at the beginning of the Franco-Prussian war (July 1870 - May 1871) and part of the reason for this was actually mentioned in the chapter so I'm going to award myself with a little gold star for that. The second part takes place years after the Franco-Prussian war - it's basically set in the 1900's. **

**And why did I have Bavaria and Baden deliver the news? Because I damn well felt like it! But really, the Kingdom of Prussia is freaking huge and Saxony, Bavaria, Baden and the rest are relatively close to one another and nowhere near Berlin (where I imagine Ludwig and Gilbert would live), says the trusty Collier's Encyclopedia map of one Unified Germany in the late 1800's. **

**Archduke Francis Ferdinand (I thought it was Franz, for some reason, but my encyclopedia suggested otherwise - perhaps because of the band?) was assassinated on 28 June 1914 - my birthday! No, I was not born in 1914, just on 28 June. So, in 2014 on my birthday it will have been one-hundred years since his assassination and thus the beginning of WWI. Another interesting fact: King Henry VIII was born on 28 June 1491 - 500 years before I was born! How awesome is that?  
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**Anyway, my head canon says that Germany and UK would be awesome friends. They both love their alcohol, so... hehe :D I wanted them to have a little bit of interaction just 'cause :D also I had just finished reading that strip where UK tries to disguise himself as a "pretty" Italian so Germany won't find him. He is kinda adorable :3  
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**Historically I know I'm fairly wrong; the Revolutionary War (1775–1783) was ages before when this chapter is set, but you know, poor Artie ;A; I reckon he'd still be cut up about it.  
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**If I'm good at anything, the World Wars history would be it, so get set for the long road ahead. **

**Also, can somebody help me with a new name for this thing? I hate how lame this one is...I do. So any suggestions would be really useful.**

**_Until next time..._  
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	4. Of Tricky Twins and Tomato box Faeries

**AN: I'm excited about this chapter! World War I is underway! Seeing as I got so much positive reviews plus so many favs and alerts I'm posting this early. You guys deserve it :3 Also, I will be away all this weekend so I won't have time to start chapter five until next week. What to say? Oh, yeah, that's right. There's a poll up on my profile so go check it out ;)  
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**I still haven't thought up another name for this yet so I have to keep trying. There's a few song lyrics I'd like to use so we'll see (:  
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**Oh! And I gave Roman Empire/Ancient Rome A NAME. YES I HAVE.**

**Æmilius - Ancient Roman Latin name meaning "rival" - thank you 20000names dot com!**

**Sofie - Belgium (:**

**Oh and I've bumped the rating up to 'M' for war themes, just to be on the safe side.  
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**Anyway! on with the show! Enjoy...  
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**I do not own Hetalia**

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**Chapter Four: Of Tricky Twins and Tomato box Faeries**

Gilbert laughed in devilish delight, having to hold an arm across his stomach as though his insides would fall out if he didn't.

"_West!_ Our dearest Sofie declared herself neutral, and that's why we were able to get through her borders so easily." He cackled some more before taking a few deep breaths to settle himself down. "Though she did put up a good fight when Arthur stepped in," he continued somewhat thoughtfully. "But what's a few days' delay when we have old Kluck in the lead, hmm?"

He pulled a very frustrated, uncooperative Ludwig down onto the ground beside him before rummaging around for the map in his Rucksack. Around them were clusters of soldiers, smoking, telling dirty jokes and eating the stale tasteless rations they'd been given. Of course, Gilbert was outraged that his and his brother's men were rewarded with so little for their efforts, but he knew about war and he knew that in order for everyone to survive, including the women and children back home, supplies had to be limited and distributed evenly.

"Here we go." The Prussian unfolded the map and put it down on the ground so both he and Ludwig could see it. The fading daylight made it difficult to read it clearly, but they had seen the plan so many times already that it didn't matter. "Schlieffen's ultimate plan of failure," Gilbert said under his breath, earning a punch in the arm from Ludwig.

"How do you expect to get anywhere with that attitude?"

Gilbert sighed and rolled his eyes. "West, let me tell you something. Please feel free to correct me if you've actually noticed this yourself, but, our momentum has tripped and stumbled into almost nothing. And moral? Don't get me started. These guys thought that the Belgian armies wouldn't dare put up a fight, that the British wouldn't get involved and they would meet no defiance."

Ludwig frowned, a cute little crease forming between his brows. "Why can't you show them some spirit then?"

Gilbert chuckled humourlessly. "What good would it do?"

For the next hour the two stared at the map without speaking to one another. Schlieffen's Plan ensured them that Paris would be encircled quickly and efficiently. How simple it seemed, marked out on a map that took up barely a millimetre's worth of Germany's land. It failed to point out the geography and of the possibilities they would face of having to fight to get to their destination. However, it wasn't only the fact that they had all jumped in head first into the war without a clue of anyone else's power outside of their own that was weighing on Gilbert's mind.

"Don't worry, alright West? Everything'll turn out fine," Gilbert said quietly without much conviction.

"I know."

No, the Prussian's mind was, for the most part, approximately two and a half months away in the past. He was constantly lost in that late summer afternoon of June, before Baldrich and Berend had come to him in a frantic mess to tell him that Ferdinand had been assassinated. That late summer afternoon where Ludwig had kissed him, where everything had changed. Where Gilbert's mind had been made up.

All the seemingly irrational possessiveness, jealousy and over-protectiveness he had been experiencing suddenly became justified. Everything made sense. Ludwig's behaviour, his own behaviour, all pointed towards one painfully obvious thing.

Gilbert had overstepped the boundaries of being his big brother, his guardian, and found that he no longer just desired to take care of Ludwig, to keep him safe from harm; but instead desired Ludwig for Ludwig, for the man he had become. He was no longer a cute, little, defenseless thing and Gilbert wanted him more than any sibling should, wanted to do unspeakable things with and to him. Of course, he had been terrified by this revelation and in turn tried desperately to disconnect himself from his own sentiments so naturally he rejected him and left the kiss to stand on it's own. He let Ludwig get hurt, let him think that Gilbert didn't think of him in that way, which ended up wounding them both.

At the end of the day, no matter how many times he thought it through inside his mind, he was faced with the same conclusion: he'd let himself and his brother down. Ludwig needed him in that moment and he wasn't there. Ludwig had confirmed his fears and his desires but he ignored it. And then he had to ask himself, how long had it been since he'd actually loved somebody? Since he'd allowed somebody to become as close to him as Ludwig had?

The truth was that Gilbert had never felt anything akin to what he felt for Ludwig.

Though despite everything, there was still another chance awaiting them after the war. If they made it through, that was.

* * *

Gilbert would have laughed when Francis' Joffre took control. The French sucked harder than...well a _dirne_...and putting a new General in control was the icing on the cake. The only thing holding him back from splitting his sides was the fact that Ludwig was stressed and extremely angry and determined to have his army be the last standing at the very end.

Gilbert had no clue just how much explosive power he had once his fuse blew. Losing a war had to be one of the worst and most humiliating things a nation could ever face - actually, Gilbert had won almost every one of his own battles so he had no experience whatsoever of how it might feel, but from what Francis' country looked like and how he acted after a good tussle was enough to give Gilbert an accurate idea.

Still, the Prussian had to give the kid credit. Old Kluck decided to abandon the Schlieffen Plan (idiot! - Gilbert practically had it in the bag) so they were forced to cross the fucking Marne River and it appeared that the French General had big plans. Big plans that were(n't) likely to work.

And the best thing? Arthur had decided to join in. _And_ Moltke, another one of Gilbert's _absolute favourites_, asked he and his brother's soldiers to retreat. Retreat! Gilbert was mortified, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't ready to get out of there. The same muddy trenches, the same barbed wire, the same weapons, the same death had surrounded him for days and it would be nice to kick some arse instead of marching, hiding and shooting, just like back in his younger days.

"They're planning to surround us," Ludwig said, obviously trying to keep his cool. There was a gash on his cheek and Gilbert could see the dirt and dried blood from the wound. It was probably the best of injuries one could receive on the battle field, but even so, Gilbert wanted to make sure it didn't hurt and that it was properly dressed.

"Don't worry about it, West. We've got it covered. It's only Francis, after all, and how many times have I throttled him?"

"What about Bülow's?"

"Arthur thinks that his men can handle that, but they don't stand a chance against our awesome. Besides, his soldiers are more concerned with their horses and their pretty uniforms."

Ourcq - the first battle they fought at the Marne - had failed. Gilbert saw Francis once during the blur of gunfire, bullets and noise, and then lost sight of him. A small part of him ached with worry, but he pushed it out of his mind. The French were no match for Ludwig's men and the brothers had a chance to celebrate the small victory.

"Gilbert," Ludwig began, almost inaudible due to the relentless blasts from grenades and mortars. "I don't think I could do this if you weren't here."

Gilbert smirked and loaded his _Mauser-Gewehr_. "Same here, West." He aimed and shot, and his victim went down with a spray of crimson coming from his neck. "Same here."

---

The Prussian had managed to step out of the battlefield for a while once the attacks had been called off, needing to find someone other than Ludwig to torment. He thought that if he could find Francis it would be more than satisfactory for him - his _Frankreich_ needed to be reminded that Paris would be his little brother's in no time. Just some harmless teasing, of course. That, and he wanted to know if he was alright.

Unfortunately for Gilbert, Francis found him first. He was ambushed from behind and pushed onto the ground, muddy water soaking through his uniform. At least he knew he had enough life to bring such a strong specimen as himself to the ground without difficulty.

"_Mon Prusse_, I did not expect to be seeing you here," The Frenchman cooed in his ear.

Gilbert struggled to get Francis off his back but it seemed the bastard wasn't going to budge. "You were stalking me, I know. Couldn't get enough of my awesome."

Francis chuckled and pressed Gilbert's shoulders hard into the ground. "Perhaps that is so. Listen to this - you and your little Ludwig will lose. You may have made it this far, but you will go no further I can assure you. My men will be the victors of this day and you will finally know what it means to lose everything."

Gilbert snorted. "Oh Francis. I almost laughed - your jokes are getting much better."

"Ah but, _mon cher_, I am not joking. I know a telegram was sent to the Kaiser admitting defeat so you must accept it sooner rather than later."

"Get off already! And no, I won't accept anything."

Francis chuckled once more and finally got to his feet. "This has been a nice little interlude," he extended his hand and helped Gilbert to his feet. "I could have taken you then and there but if you'll excuse me, I must help Arthur."

"So that's who pings your ding, huh? Always thought it could have been me," Gilbert sighed with mock-regret. "I'll see you at the end when you're dragging your sorry arse back home, singing Prussia's national anthem."

"I believe it is you who will be singing _La Marseillaise_, Gilbert."

Francis had been right - he'd practically won the Marne unofficially. Gilbert suddenly wanted to tell Ludwig that perhaps it was all over, but something told him that his brother already knew.

* * *

With as much strength as he could muster, Feliciano Vargas clawed at the ground, determined to stay where he was. This proved to be a difficult task considering he wasn't at all fit or strong and his extremely insistent brother had a vice-grip around his ankles and was refusing to let go.

"Come on, Feliciano!" Lovino urged through clenched teeth. "Stop being so useless and get UP!" He dragged his brother a few inches forward before having to take a breather.

Feliciano wailed and attempted to kick his legs so Lovino would let go but to no avail. "How could you be so mean!? I don't want to fight! Idon'twanttoIdon'twanttoIdo--"

"FINE!" Lovino roared and dropped Feliciano's legs. "When we lose, it'll be your fault! How do you like that, bastard!?"

Feliciano managed to sit up so he could look at his brother, putting on his best pout. He didn't like arguing but Lovino was always so angry and whatever it was they talked about, they would end up fighting one another irrationally. Feliciano guessed that Lovino's bad mood was because of Antonio but if he knew anything about his brother and his relationship with the Spaniard, it was wise never to mention anything about it.

"Where are you going?" He asked when Lovino turned on his heel in a huff and started to walk away, already feeling distressed at the thought of being left on his own. "Don't leave me, _fratello_! I can't be by myself! What if I run into the enemy? What will I do then?" He knew that his older brother didn't have much more strength or bravery than he did, but having somebody was better than having nobody, after all.

"Tough shit! You got yourself into this mess so you can get yourself out. And you're so good at hiding so I doubt you'll run into the enemy. They'll more than likely run into you first."

"Well, fine!" Feliciano folded his arms over his chest and tried his best to feign anger. "Stupid Lovino."

Neither of them said another word and before long, Lovino had stormed off and disappeared entirely. Even when fear got the better of him and Feliciano called out his name, he didn't respond. Lovino had really left him out in the middle of nowhere - and during a war, no less! - and he was alone with no idea where he was. What he really needed was a plan, but he had no idea where to start. He found a small stick and started drawing a dodgy map in the dirt before his artistic ability took over and he created a portrait of Grandpa Roma instead.

"Ve~ what am I to do?"

Italy had declared it's neutrality to the war but until only recently Feliciano's boss decided that his country would go to war seeing as they'd severed their ties to the Alliance between Austria, Hungary and Germany. Feliciano was saddened by this - Roderich and Elizabeta were able to protect him and he didn't have to worry about fighting because together, the two of them were strong enough - but he'd grown up and moved on from their care. As for The German part of the coalition, Feliciano hadn't met him yet. Roderich had mentioned a "Ludwig" before but when it came to the details, when Feliciano asked him about this Ludwig, he was rather vague. At the end of the day, it didn't bother him that he didn't know too much about him - he had heard much about Germany's growth as a nation and decided it was best not to know who Ludwig was - he was more than likely big, strong, scary and likely to crush Feliciano like a bug once he laid eyes upon him.

The Italian sighed and cuddled his knees to his chest. Since his boss declared war on Austria, Feliciano hadn't seen Roderich or even one trench, for that matter. Lovino was more than adamant about going to war, most likely because Antonio's country was neutral and Feliciano's worst nightmare was having to fight - apart from being alone forever without any friends, and unfortunately, those nightmares were becoming increasingly real. If he and his brother and their country had stayed neutral, then they may have had an opportunity to make friends afterwards.

By the time Feliciano had snapped out of his depressing reverie, almost the whole day had passed and he decided that he would have to do something useful to make up for the lost hours. He got to his feet and started to wander about, taking in his surroundings. At least there were still trees and their leaves were still green. Grandpa Roma had always said that Mother Nature would always find a way to combat the mess of war, and he was right. Italy was a beautiful country and Feliciano was proud to call it his own.

After he wandered further through the maze of trees and bushes, he heard voices and marching and immediately panicked, thinking it could either be Austrian or German troops or worse...both! So he frantically looked for a hiding spot before realising that the voices were actually speaking Italian and that they were actually his own soldiers. Even though they wouldn't attack him, Feliciano saluted them when they came closer, told them everything was just _perfetto_ and scampered off to find a tricky place to hide where he would be out of harm's way completely. Eventually he found what had to be the best place in the world to hide in his situation - an old crate which read "Tomatoes". The sun was beginning to set so Feliciano took no time at all to hop inside and secure the top, just in case somebody did try to get inside. There were small slits in between the pieces of wood so he was able to breathe, but there wasn't much leg room and in the mid-August heat it was uncomfortable to be so squashed up, but he had next to no other choices so he decided that he would make it as bearable as possible. With a big yawn, he closed his eyes and picked a memory; the memory which had sent him off to sleep every night for the past three hundred years.

_His ice-blue eyes became darker with seriousness and all the young Italian could do was watch and listen as he tried to find a way to say the words that were troubling him so. _

_"...What do your people give to their loved ones?" he began slowly. The way he said it, so sadly, made Feliciano's chest hurt slightly and he wanted to cry, but he wanted to be brave even more, so he sniffed back the tears. It all sounded so final - he'd already said this was goodbye but Feliciano didn't want to believe it. He only knew the boy standing in front of him as Holy Roman Empire; he didn't even know his precious human name. _

_"I...Um, a kiss, I think..."_

_"I see." Holy Roman Empire stepped closer, slightly timid, and put his hands on Feliciano's arms to pull him closer. "Ever since the nineteen-hundreds, I've always loved you."_

_Before Feliciano could respond, his lips were captured in an affectionate kiss which made his little body shake with excitement, and he was sure his cheeks were much redder than a tomato. _

_"Really?" Feliciano asked when the kiss had ended. The boy standing before him had a brilliant pink blush on his cheeks too. He was so cute and Feliciano didn't want to leave his side ever. _

_"Yeah." All too soon he let go and started to walk away, but not before turning around to give him a reassuring smile. "I'll definitely come to see you when the fight's over. Farewell for now!"_

_"I'll wait," Feliciano said with saddened happiness, the tears falling freely down his cheeks. "I'll always wait! And I'll make lots of sweets for your return. A-And don't get sick or hurt! We'll see each other again, we really will!"_

_Feliciano gave his beloved a final wave._

_"No matter how many hundreds of years go by, I'll always love you more than anyone else in the world!"_

He never did return, yet Feliciano still waited. His heart still warmed with that flame of hope even after all the years had passed without his return, so it was a sign. He hadn't loved since then and he didn't think he ever would.

* * *

So Italy had declared war upon Germany?

Ludwig would have been lying had he said he wasn't just a little nervous. Gilbert had left him to handle Verdun by himself whilst he attacked the Somme (bastard) and once it was clear he was defeated, the news he just couldn't have possibly waited for was delivered to him.

From what Ludwig gathered, the elusive Italian twins were descendants of the great Roman Empire, and sources said that the man behind it all - Æmilius - was a fierce, beastly force not to be reckoned with. If the Italian twins were anything like that, then Ludwig decided that he would happily turn around and pretend he'd never ventured across the border, which was, to his surprise and disappointment, extremely easy to cross. Not that he would ever admit that - he was tough, scary and by some, considered brutal. Perhaps they thought of Gilbert instead of him, but even so, it was a fairly good reputation to have.

After hours of wandering about, finding absolutely nothing and seeing no sign of the Italian twins, Ludwig stumbled upon a suspicious looking crate. He took his rifle from it's place on his back and aimed it at the crate before tapping on the lid with it. From inside there was a squeak of surprise and Ludwig took a step back in shock, not expecting such a reaction. Perhaps an explosion may have been plausible, but a squeak?

To his amazement and utter confusion, the crate started to speak. Well, _whatever_ was _inside_ the crate started to speak (Ludwig didn't believe inanimate objects had a soul and therefore weren't alive and therefore weren't able to speak or make any sound whatsoever).

"H-Hey! I'm the tomato box faerie and I want to be friends! Don't hurt me~!

Ludwig raised and eyebrow and started to pull the top of the crate off. "There must be somebody in there," he muttered to himself.

"N-No, no! You're mistaken! I'm a faerie, not a human a-and there's no one in here!"

After another hard pull, the wood splintered, the lid came off and a little man popped up with his hand clasped together, tears streaming down his face.

"Uwahhh! I'm sorry! So sorry! I'm not really a tomato box faerie! Please don't shoot me! I'd be no fun to shoot! I'm a good Italian so please don't shoot me!"

The little man had big, hazel coloured eyes and chestnut hair with a ridiculous stray curl on the side. He looked weedy and Ludwig thought that perhaps it was just a lost soldier, but something else told him that somehow, the one in front of him had a higher ranking than just an everyday private - his uniform was different from the other Italian soldiers he had come across.

Ludwig leaned over and picked the Italian up by the back of his uniform and studied him. Surely this scrawny sobbing thing had to be a civilian. What else could such a useless person be?

"Can you answer me something? Are you the descendant of Æmilius of Rome?"

The little man's tears seemed to stop immediately and his eyes lit up in excitement. "You know Grandpa Roma? I'm Feliciano, Æmilius':Grandson!"

No chance in hell was the little incompetent bastard really the descendant of the great Æmilius. Ludwig let go of Feliciano's uniform, picked up his rifle and pushed the barrel against his chest.

"Ve~ You and I can be friends!"

The German glared at him suspiciously. "You're obviously trying to trick me."

Feliciano looked at the gun, up at Ludwig and then down again before paling and fainting on the spot. Ludwig took the opportunity to search the area for his twin, but there seemed to be no others. The other was most probably out on the battlefield. Surely he had to be of more strength and substance than Feliciano.

Ludwig could only hope - he didn't want his victory against Italy to be known as an easy battle, but to be acknowledged as something great that everyone would remember throughout the centuries to come.

* * *

**TBC...

* * *

**

**:D**

**Just a few terms - **

**_Mauser-Gewehr_ - German rifle. **

**_La Marseillaise_ - "The Song of Marseille" French national anthem adopted in 1795, composed by Claude Joseph Rouget de Lisle. Oh my gosh, I love these things! Like, Advance Australia Fair is awful (ok, it's not that _bad_) but GAH! Some have the most beautiful names! Examples: ****Mu isamaa, mu õnn ja rõõm - My Fatherland, My Happiness and Joy (Estonia) + Das Deutschlandlied - The Germany Song (Germany - okay, it isn't beautiful, but how cool!? I bet it sounds great when they sing it :3) + Kimi ga Yo - May Your Reign Last Forever (Japan) + Ja, vi elsker dette landet - Yes, We Love This Country (Norway) + Du gamla, Du fria - Thou Ancient, Thou Free (Sweden) and basically I thought "wow!" I think national anthems are so cool. Oh, oh and one more - Shche ne vmerla Ukrainy - Ukraine's Glory Has Not Perished (Ukraine).  
**

**_perfetto_ - Italian for "perfect"**

**Old Kluck - ****Alexander Heinrich Rudolph von Kluck, German General. **

**B****ü****low - Count Bernhard von B****ülow, Kluck's wingman (not really, but you know!)**

**Joffre - ****Joseph Jacques Césaire Joffre, French General. HOTSTUFF. Go look him up. Hurrhurrr. **

**So in the beginning of this chapter, they are embarking on the Schlieffen Plan, which was created by a guy called Count Alfred von Schlieffen, put into plan by Moltke (Helmuth von Moltke the Younger - don't these German names just turn you on? No?...ok then TT_TT). It envisaged a rapid German mobilization, disregard of the neutrality of Luxembourg, Belgium and the Netherlands, and an overwhelming sweep of the powerful German right wing southwest through Belgium and Northern France, "letting the last man on the right, brush the Channel with his sleeve," in the words of Schlieffen, while maintaining only a defensive posture on the central and left wings, in Lorraine, the Vosges, and the Moselle. Paris was not to be taken but was to be passed by the right wing to the west of the city. The intent of the plan was not to conquer cities or industry in order to weaken the French war efforts, but to capture most of the French Army and to force France to surrender. The plan was that the French Army would be hemmed in around Paris and forced to fight a decisive envelopment battle. Says Wikipedia - my study guide and encyclopedia says that basically as well. The plan was a failure. Poor Loodvig and Gilbert. **

**The Marne was a battle fought between the French, British and Germans. The Germans almost had it in the bag but France attacked towards the end and both sides had too many casualties (approx +250 000) and the attacks were ceased on September 18. **

**Verdun and the Somme were both in the year of 1916. Germany was unsuccessful at Verdun, yet were able to get one up at the Somme. **

**On August 27, 1916 after being neutral, Italy declared war on Germany after previously declaring war on Austria.  
**

**As I think you're all aware, I have made this compatible with the "HRE is Germany" theory. In fact, history shows us that the HRE is the first German "Reich" - Hitler wanted to make Nazi Germany the Third - or something like that, so therefore I think our little Loodvig is the HRE. But I wanted to make it so that as soon as he saw Feliciano he didn't immediately go "ohmygodi'" like most people write. I don't want it to be this big thing because THIS. IS. GERMANCEST. As much as I love GerIta, I won't be sticking to Himayura's comic strictly - I only wanted to use the last half because yeah. HREChibitalia is so cute. But alas, it cannot be. Anyway, it is late here in the land of Oz, so I bid you all goodnight and I hope you enjoyed the fourth chapter. As always, your reviews and favs and hits are appreciated. **

* * *

**_Until next time..._  
**


	5. Of Lost Hope and Honour

**AN: Sorry to inform you all that this chapter is crapola. Well, alright, not so much but it's a little uneventful and there's not much history mentioned at all. I promise the next chapter will have a lot more in it! Cross my heart, hope to die, stick a hundred needles in my eye... that kinda thing.  
**

**On another note... HAPPY EASTER! Hope you all have a great holiday and hope the E.B is good to you! :B It's almost over here in down under TT_TT I'm sorry again for the chapter...I really wanted to have it out for your Easter present but it's not so great but it's updated, at least.  
**

**Name = still evading me. **

**Anyway! on with the show... or chapter... whatever ;B  
**

**...**

**I do not own Hetalia**

**...**

* * *

**Chapter Five: Of Lost Hope and Honour  
**

Private Isaak Schneider was eighteen years old, quite young amongst the other German soldiers on the front. The other men hadn't been proud of him and they'd laughed at him for being too young and unable to understand the ways of the world, but Gilbert liked him. He had courage and he wanted to show his worth, to become somebody worth admiring, and despite being in the middle of the greatest wars the world had seen, being stuck in a rotten trench day and night, he still held onto his goals and his dreams. That earned every little bit of Gilbert's respect.

Watts reminded the Prussian of his little brother at times, so when he was hit in the back by a large piece of shrapnel, Gilbert stayed with him until he died and promised him that he would make it known to everybody that he was a hero. Gilbert hadn't seen Ludwig since he went to Italy and he was getting worried. He'd never heard of a nation's person being killed by human means before so the anxiety didn't have as greater hold as it would have, but seeing Ludwig's face, even if it was bruised, contorted by pain or anger, bloodied, made the war worth fighting. Ludwig being alive made the war, anything, worth fighting.

Night approached quickly and Gilbert allowed himself to rest his eyes for a while. There hadn't been an attack for a good five hours and he was certain that it would be safe enough for the time being to close his eyes for half an hour. Once he'd allowed his body to relax he only just realised how tired he really was.

---

_Bitter white snow covered the ground and there was an onslaught of ice being thrown at him by the howling winds. He was holding a hand, Ludwig's hand, but he was slipping away. There was a tight squeeze of something around his stomach and he only just realised it was an arm. His feet dragged along in the snow - he was being pulled away by somebody. A chilling laugh echoed in the wintry air. Ludwig's voice called to him, telling him not to go. Gilbert opened his mouth and tried to speak but he was unable - he was already screaming Ludwig's name..._

---

"...schmidt! _Herr_ Weillschmidt! I have a message for you from the general."

Gilbert opened his eyes and looked around him, bewildered. There was no snow; he was surrounded by the same trench he'd been in for the past fortnight. There was another private standing over him and his face was only visible when a flare went off. The endless rhythm of gunfire had begun once again.

"Thanks," the Prussian mumbled, taking the letter and giving the private a sluggish salute. He was expecting a notification of a new strategy or a demand for him to move, but what he received instead made his blood run cold.

* * *

"Sir, I'm afraid I can't allow you to go inside until I've looked at your wounds."

"It's just a scratch, dear," Gilbert said dismissively as he looked over and around the nurse standing before him to see if he could locate where Ludwig was. "I really don't have time - I've gotta find my brother and in case you didn't notice, there's a war going on."

"There's a lot of blood on your front - it'll need stitches." The nurse crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows expectantly. It looked as though her jaw was locked just a little too tight. "You will come with me before you can go any further."

Gilbert groaned and rolled his eyes emphatically before unbuttoning the front of his bloodied uniform. There was a cut that extended from his navel, about two inches long, which appeared to have stopped bleeding a while ago.

"Guess the fresh bloods not mine then," Gilbert said casually with a shrug of his shoulders, causing the nurse to roll her eyes.

"Come with me," she repeated before turning sharply, signaling Gilbert to follow her with a quick and pointed wave of her hand.

He decided that he had no other choice but to follow her, so he quickly buttoned his uniform and walked quickly to catch up with her. He wasn't allowed the chance to look for his brother so he decided that once the nurse was out of sight he'd take a self-guided tour around the hospital quarters. Gilbert had just spent more than half the day traveling so he refused to let it be all for nothing.

Gilbert managed to sneak out of the observation room and into the first ward where there were two rows of several beds at least a bed-and-a-half width away from one another, some unmade and empty. They were small and looked uncomfortable and the stark white of the sheets immediately reminded Gilbert of his unpleasant vision, causing a chill to race through his body, giving him goosebumps.

At the very end of the room, Gilbert noticed a familiar blond head of hair and ran towards the bed, relief washing over him when he saw it definitely was Ludwig lying there.

"Hey West." Gilbert sat down on the mattress space beside Ludwig's body and placed a hand over his brother's. "Not five minutes in and you're down for the count." He chuckled softly and inspected the bandages that covered his right upper arm and shoulder and chest. Gilbert wouldn't have thought it was much of an injury until he saw that there were visible lumps beneath the wrapping and some blood had soaked through.

"It wasn't my fault," Ludwig said sternly, his eyes remaining closed. "I was ordered to retreat - I would have kept fighting."

Gilbert hadn't expected him to answer, but was more than glad to hear his voice. He sounded as though he wasn't in any pain, but Gilbert knew just how stubborn he could be and he knew that he was just keeping up a brave facade.

"Sometimes we're not the best judge when it comes to what's best for us."

Ludwig opened an eye and Gilbert allowed himself to become lost in its colour for a brief moment - he hadn't seen anything so simply beautiful for a long time. He then wondered why it was taking so long for the nurse to come and find him.

"Are you alright, Gilbert?"

Gilbert refocused his attention and noticed that both Ludwig's eyes were opened and were looking at him with that quiet concern that seemed to be reserved only for him.

"Yeah, sure, West. What about you? What happened?"

Ludwig cast his eyes in the opposite direction, his mouth quirked downwards slightly, looking ashamed. Gilbert squeezed his hand in reassurance.

"I was shot and hit with shrapnel at the same time whilst trying to help one of my men." One of his hands came up to ghost over the top of his bandages and his frown deepened, though this time it was from pain instead of shame. "The bullets were only millimetres from my lungs."

Gilbert breathed a sigh of relief. He knew Ludwig was a warrior and he would refuse to be knocked down so easily, but it was difficult not to become anxious.

"How long do you think you'll be out of action?"

"I'm not sure. A few days."

Gilbert was suddenly overcome by worry and his protective instincts kicked in. He held Ludwig's hand in his own and lifted it up to his chest as though he wished for him to feel his rapidly growing heartbeat.

"Maybe you should return home, West."

"What?"

Gilbert tried his best to give him his best reassuring smile to counter the frustrated and confused look on Ludwig's face.

"You've been badly injured and I don't want it happening again. You're too important to me, West. I hate worrying about you - I'd rather know that you're safe and--"

"So you get to go back out and be the man of the hour?" Ludwig asked bitterly, pulling his hand out of Gilbert's grasp.

"No, that's not what I mean at all and you know it," Gilbert lowered his voice and leaned in a little. "Those bastards are merciless and pretty soon this'll all be over and we'll have nothing to show for it. I'd rather lose a thousand wars than lose you." He couldn't believe he'd said that last bit but despite that it made it no less true; even if it was totally cliché. How unawesome.

Ludwig blushed yet he continued to look at Gilbert, completely horrified that he'd even suggested what he did.

"You always taught me to be strong and to beat the shit out of everybody else, and now you're telling me that I can't do that?"

"You're my little brother, West. Can't you see where I'm coming from? What would you do in my situation? Think about it."

Their eyes met and they stared at one another intensely. Gilbert was willing Ludwig to see his point of view, to see that he was just trying to show how much he cared for him and not trying to steal his thunder, but it seemed Ludwig was stubbornly trying to make Gilbert see he was just being selfish. In all honesty he was being selfish but for entirely valid reasons.

"You do realise that I'm no longer ye high and I don't need to hold your hand anymore, don't you?" Ludwig asked quietly, as though he was uncertain of whether he should have said it or not.

Gilbert could have made an earth shattering confession about wanting Ludwig to be small and vulnerable so he could still hold his hand whenever he wanted to. He wanted to say that even though he wasn't ye high, he could still hold his hand whenever he needed to. But he loved that Ludwig had grown admirably and most of all, he loved that at the end of the day he could still call him his little brother no matter what.

Gilbert could have made an earth shattering confession about caring about Ludwig so much that at times he felt as though he would burst, he could barely contain it. He wanted to say that he was wrongly in love with him and that he didn't want him to have too many scars because one day he would blame Gilbert for each one of them.

But Gilbert's opportunity was stolen right out from underneath him when the troublesome nurse came barreling into the ward, a man following quickly behind her. Gilbert waited to be berated but the man stepped in and handed him an envelope of 'great importance'. He ripped it open and skimmed over the tediously long passages, sourcing the juicy bits.

"Looks like we're out of here, West."

* * *

Gilbert had been more than thankful to return home, shower, and clear his head for a few days. Hell, he'd even been thankful to attend those tedious political conferences that took hours upon hours in duration and in the end absolutely nothing was achieved. Ludwig had even said he was glad to be back, despite their little falling out at the hospital. It sure beat the machinegun fire, the screaming of a soldier who'd just had his legs blown to pieces, the blood, the trenches. It was better in the poverty-stricken streets of home.

That was until Alfred F-bucking. Jones and his boss came into it. The American was young, stupid and idealistic and had no idea at all. They came, offering 'peace without victory' and their amazing Fourteen Points, all so they could claim that the Allies had won with their help. Look at how awesome America is, Alfred's flashy grin seemed to say.

"You guys kinda need a hero, so here I am to save the day!"

Was he a headache-and-a-half or what? "Yeah, yeah, _okay_. Settle down will ya, kid?"

Gilbert agreed, albeit begrudgingly and to himself (like he would let that bastard know that he thought he was _somewhat_ right), that there needed to be some kind of armistice - the war was going nowhere, but Ludwig insisted that they keep going. Technically it was Ludwig's war, not Gilbert's so he could only try to be an influence from the sidelines, but Alfred got under his skin and his country was _not_ awesome, not like Gilbert's or Ludwig's, so he would make sure the Allies knew that.

Thank _Gott_ the idiot didn't stay long.

Whilst he was thinking of his little brother, the Prussian noticed that since they'd come back home, his mind seemed to be elsewhere, and he wondered why he hadn't noticed it at the hospital.

Whenever he wasn't meeting with his boss and his generals, whenever he just had time to himself and thought Gilbert wasn't watching, his eyes would become distant and he seemed confused and troubled about something. This war had been the worst yet but that wasn't it. It wasn't even the fact If Gilbert knew his brother, and he knew he knew Ludwig very well, better than anybody else of course, it wasn't the war that was doing his head in - Ludwig knew what wars were so he wasn't shocked by much anymore.

The sound of the door opening broke Gilbert from his thoughts. The Kaiser and his advocates exited, speaking hushed, hurried and angrily, Ludwig trailing behind after them with a tired look on his face.

"Come on, Gilbert. Let's go home."

"Yours or mine?" Gilbert teased. "I take it things didn't go well?"

"The President's plans are ridiculous. I think he just wants to be the face of peace and nothing more."

"You're not kidding."

Yes - there was something off about his brother, and Gilbert had a sinking feeling as to why. Italy, though not as awesome as Prussia or Germany, was a fairly large (in comparison to Belgium and Luxembourg) country, so therefore there would have been only a sliver of a chance of two certain people meeting.

From what Gilbert remembered, Feliciano Vargas was a weakling that couldn't stand on his two feet, so it wouldn't have come as a surprise if he had just stayed indoors and let his pathetic arse of a brother go on ahead and fight the war himself. But there was the possibility that Feliciano did go to war. There was the possibility that they ran into one another and Ludwig actually remembered something. Gilbert mentally gave himself a smack on the head. He remembered nothing before he was found, so how could he remember who Feliciano was? The only real possibility was that Ludwig remembered their brief encounter at Roderich's house when he was still young, and a lot had happened since then.

"...And he wants there to be a League of Nations, on top of everything else. I certainly don't wish to be part of that once it's established."

"Somehow I don't think we'll be included anyway, West. Look, I'll let you have your rest tonight and I'll come over tomorrow morning so we can sort something out."

As he turned to walk away, Ludwig stopped him with a hand on his shoulder yet he remained silent. He looked as though he was battling with himself for something, anything to say. After a few short moments he spoke, his voice quite different from being previously clipped and angry; it was softer, reminding Gilbert of the first few days after he found him in the forest. How shy, how innocent.

Ludwig opened his mouth to say something but he changed his mind. "Goodnight Gilbert."

Gilbert frowned but thought it best to leave it be. "Night, West." Now he had more cause to worry, but he didn't want to push his brother, not at that moment. "I've said it a thousand times before, but you know you can always tell me anything."

Ludwig gave him an unconvincing smile before they went their separate ways.

In the morning when Gilbert went to his brother's house, he wasn't home. On the table he found a note addressed to him. Ludwig had gone back to the front and was going to fight until it was all over, the note informed him. It informed him that he was sorry, too.

Gilbert swore and tore the paper up into numerous pieces angrily, letting them flutter to the ground steadily. He sank down into the chair at the table, banging his fists on the table's surface, cursing the war, Ludwig and his fucking bravery and brilliance. Once that boy got home, Gilbert was making sure he would never leave his side again.

* * *

**TBC...

* * *

**

**;B**

**Gilbert! Ludwig is doing this for you! Don't be so irrational TT_TT**

**_---_****  
**

**Isaak Schneider - not a real soldier - I just picked that name.**

**Woodrow Wilson - American president (March 4 1913 - March 4 1921) - pretty sexy (seriously...but not). He was fairly idealistic and wanted to be friends with everybody, in a very small nutshell. His concept of the Fourteen Points was to assure the congress that the Great War was being fought for moral causes and that peace would be brought to postwar Europe. His good old friends Clemenceau (French Prime Minister), Lloyd George (Prime Minister of the UK) and Orlando (Italian Prime Minister) thought he was idealistic and were pretty disbelieving of the aims of the Points. Feliciano would have liked Wilson's ideas, I'm sure.  
**

* * *

**_Until next time..._  
**


	6. Of The Armistice and The Allies

**AN: Hii~ :D back again with another long chapter for your reading pleasure. Ok, so, this isn't a huge deal but I'm only 11 reviews away from having 50 reviews. That's big for me, 'cause I see these multi-chaptered fics that are up to ten chapters and only have twenty or so reviews and I feel bad 'cause a lot of them are actually really good, so I'm excited that I have so many for just five (now six) chapters. Thank you - you people are awesome. I might have to do something special once I reach 50 reviews, huh? :D**

**So, WWI has ended. I know - covered a lot in just three chapters, didn't I? There's gonna be a lot of notes at the end, because as eventful as the Great War was, the armistice at the end was pretty busy, too. **

**Enjoy chapter six!  
**

**...**

**I do not own Hetalia**

**...**

* * *

**Chapter Six: Of The Armistice and The Allies  
**

The sky above darkened with the promise of winter and slowly the reverberations of voices and gunshots in Ludwig's ears became louder. The shrilling of one thousand bullets turned into one hundred, to fifty and then to one. He was unsure of who fired their gun for the last time, whether it was a French soldier or one of his own, but it didn't matter.

"_L'Allemagne_," a soft voice called to him. "You've just lost one of the greatest wars of all time. How does it feel?"

Ludwig looked ahead to see Francis standing amongst his men. Despite the fact his once grandiose uniform was soiled by the blood of his kinsmen and his enemies; despite the fact he'd lost so much and that some of his land was still in the hands of Germany, he wore a triumphant smirk on his face. Ludwig refused to speak just in case he imagined it - none of his men seemed to have heard it; the news of the armistice had their undivided attention.

And then retreat was called for the final time. The soldiers murmured, cheered and yelled their relief, their disappointment, their despair. They had lost, but they had been blessed - those lives had been spared. Ludwig wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his uniform, wishing in vain that Gilbert could have been there by his side - despite his age, he still needed his brother; he needed his shoulder to lean on.

* * *

Everywhere Gilbert looked, he saw suffering. On his way home he saw frail mothers holding their even frailer children's hands. Their faces were gaunt, their eyes hollow, but still they smiled. The Prussian imagined it was due to the news of the armistace. But how long would they be smiling for? Their loved ones may have been dead already and they wouldn't know until much later. Gilbert prayed Ludwig would be home soon. All he could think about was that letter and though he knew Ludwig was too stubborn to let himself stay fallen for too long, there was still a grey cloud of doubt lingering over his head.

"Damn it." Gilbert slammed his front gate shut behind him. Gilbird, who had been completely silent and still, chirped in protest. "Sorry." He scooped Gilbird up into his hands and placed him on his favourite perching spot - the top of his head. The little bird nestled into his hair and twittered happily. If only Gilbert could be so easily contented.

Before all of this, Gilbert didn't have to worry about anyone but himself. Hell, he didn't even have to worry about Francis or Antonio. Ludwig was old enough and strong enough, but that didn't stop his nerves standing on end every time they were separated for whatever reason. Of course he knew it had to do with just how much he cared for Ludwig, but how did he make the worrying stop? He wished he could talk to Francis and Antonio like he used to - they would know what to do; they had colonies long before he did.

Inside, his house was freezing cold. Winter was certainly lurking nearby. Gilbert went to Ludwig's old room to make sure the bed linen was clean and the pillows were still comfortable. If Ludwig thought he was going back home to be by himself, he had another thing coming. After giving the blankets a good shaking, he sat down on the bed and looked around the room. It looked dull, as though Ludwig had stolen all the life from it when he left. He hadn't left for good, but he might as well have. His home always seemed so far from Gilbert's, when in reality, it was only a two hour walk to his front door.

The Prussian smiled sadly to himself and lay down; inhaling Ludwig's now faded scent laced with dust and closed his eyes.

---

_I don't know what to do, Gilbert thought to himself, panicked and lost, unable to figure out what he should do. Tell me what to do!_

_"It hurts, Gilbert. Really hurts..."_

_Gilbert was kneeling down beside Ludwig on his bed. The boy was in tears and in pain. He said his body ached all over and Gilbert couldn't do anything for him and he hated himself for it. He swore to himself he would protect him and yet he couldn't bring him any relief. _

_"Shh...just-just close your eyes and don't think about it."_

_"Don't go."_

_"I won't. I'm right here." Gilbert ran his hand gently through his hair before resting it on his forehead. "I'm not going anywhere." Soon Ludwig quieted down and drifted to sleep. _

_Gilbert watched as the snow fall slowly past the window, casting moving-shadow patterns on the wall behind him. Something about the snow always made him feel alone and depressed, yet he didn't know why. He supposed that perhaps each flake drifted down, down, down... and disappeared amongst the others when it reached the ground, lost without a trace. It served no purpose, held no meaning, and with it, it brought death. Nothing good could come from winter or snow, so why should he celebrate it like most others? _

_Small hands touched Gilbert's knee, relieving him from his cynical thoughts. Ludwig's crystal-like eyes were fixed on him, watching him with concern and a hint of understanding. With those eyes he seemed to see everything that Gilbert was and the Prussian was able to clearly see just why he needed Ludwig so much, why he needed to protect him, why he needed to care for him. _

_"Hey, Lud. Are you okay? Do you need anything?" _

_"It's too cold to sleep by myself."_

_Gilbert smiled as Ludwig moved over to one side of his tiny bed to make room for him._

---

A loud knocking woke Gilbert up from his sleep. He opened his eyes to find it was almost completely dark outside and he was freezing his arse off because he didn't have any blankets on. After tripping over his boots and letting out a string of weary curses he eventually made it to the front door.

"Sorry I'm late, Gilbert," a very tired and worn Ludwig said once Gilbert answered the door.

"Idiot." Gilbert pulled him inside and into his arms where he held him tightly, never wanting to let go. "Big fucking _idiot_."

* * *

Feliciano fiddled with the bottom of his tie, scraping his thumbnail over the material as though trying to pick off a dried bit of pasta sauce. Lovino decided that he didn't want to deal with the Allies so he stayed home, leaving Feliciano to meet with them all by himself.

"_Stupido_," the Italian muttered sulkily.

Seated on the opposite side of the table was Arthur and his 'big brother' Francis. They were arguing between themselves about the state of Europe instead of trying to decide on peace terms.

A considerably large and warm hand came to rest upon Feliciano's nervous, fiddling ones. He started momentarily before looking up to see two big blue eyes looking at him with a kind look about them and an enthusiastic shine. The person seated beside him was Alfred F. Jones - he was very young and very handsome and Feliciano couldn't help but beam at him.

"Don't let them know you're nervous, 'kay?" He winked at Feliciano before turning his attention to the argument on the other side of the table.

"We all know you guys just want to take over Germany."

"Alfred Jones, you are a git! I doubt you're going to take this seriously at all. You're in no position to talk."

"Well _excuse me_," the American said, straightening up his bomber jacket. "If it wasn't for me and my heroic awesomeness, you wouldn't have won!"

"We would have managed without you!"

"I think--" Feliciano began, but was cut off when Alfred stood up abruptly, knocking his chair over.

"At least my boss is doing something to help the situation!" he pointed at Arthur accusingly. "You guys want to take everything from Germany when you know that's not possible! Those guys can't pay for everything!"

"Well they should have thought about that before starting this bloody war. And don't point at me, Alfred! It's rude."

Alfred snorted and was about to say something else before Feliciano slammed his hands down on the table top. A blush instantly coloured his face when everything went silent and all eyes focused on him.

"U-um...don't you all think we should get on with what were supposed to be talking about? Th-there's some things--"

"My little L'Italie is right. I want the Rhineland to belong to me."

"No way!" Alfred shouted.

"Absolutely not," Arthur agreed.

Once more, the three launched into another argument and Feliciano decided it was better to remain silent - surely they'd run out of things to argue about and the conference would reach an effective turning point. Feliciano may not have been extremely wise, but he was old enough to know that if everyone was friends, a lot more could be achieved.

After another hour of bickering, Feliciano realised that the list of things to argue about was a never-ending one. Arthur refused to agree with Alfred and Francis, Arthur and Alfred refused to agree with Francis, and Francis refused to leave without any acquisition of land. The Italian kept hearing the name 'Ludwig' mentioned from time to time but it never became clear to him who he was or what he had to do with anything. The name was definitely German, which led Feliciano to think about the encounter he'd had with that scary man in the forest two years ago. He knew his Grandpa Æmilius, so he must have been a good person, but he was so tall and so readily aimed his rifle at him, so he must have also been a bad person. Feliciano couldn't decide what to make of him, but for some reason since that day, he always thought about him. He put it down to his curious nature. Perhaps they'd even met once before?

"Don't you guys think it's time we sort out what to do with Germany now?"

"I've been saying that for the past hour, you prat."

"Let's make our little friends pay for everything."

"Ve~ let's not be too mean to Germany."

"Yeah, that's a little harsh. I'll help them pay for some stuff."

"I believe they should be held responsible for all the losses and damages - we can't have them getting away with murder, can we?"

"No, but we don't have to make them guilty for everything."

"_Oui_, we do. And why shouldn't we? It's only fair. When we invite them over, they'll see it's the right thing to do. All of us here are victims, are we not?"

Feliciano wanted to say that, no, he wasn't particularly. France had suffered the most damaged out of them all, so it was no wonder Francis wanted his revenge and wanted to make Germany suffer just as his country had.

"I guess they just don't understand us, huh?" Alfred asked Feliciano as they were leaving the hall once the conference ended for the day. "You can come back and sit with me at our next conference, if you wanted," he added with a casual shrug.

Feliciano smiled and nodded. "Ve~ that would be good. I just hope they don't punish Germany too much."

* * *

As soon as he'd heard the name 'Versailles Treaty', Gilbert knew it was going to be bad, though he tried not to show it - Ludwig was stressed enough as it was.

"Don't worry, West. It won't be as bad as you think it will be."

"You always tell me not to worry," Ludwig grumbled.

Gilbert chuckled and took hold of his brother's hands, which were preoccupied with the buttons on his coat and gave them a gentle reassuring squeeze. "I don't want you to have to worry about anything."

"I have to worry about things, Gilbert. If I took your approach to everything, I'd been in a complete mess, you know that."

Ludwig tried to remain serious but Gilbert saw the smile in his eyes. "I certainly do. Do you want me to go in there with you?" He tilted his head towards the double doors at the end of the hallway.

The German looked as though he wanted to say no, that it could be left up to him - Gilbert would have said the same thing - but instead he gave him a small listless smile.

"This is your fault too."

Gilbert chuckled again and trapped Ludwig in a headlock, having to stand up on his toes to reach. "Of course it is, West. You've always been the considerate sharing type, haven't you?"

Before long, the two were called into the hall and they were greeted by an empty room. There were muffled voices and Gilbert suspected that the Allies and their bosses were in the next room over. There was no sign of the Kaiser or his delegates.

"Let's get this over with."

From the look on Ludwig's face Gilbert knew that he really didn't want to know what fate the Allies had bestowed upon his country. And once they'd read through the document, Gilbert understood exactly why. He was furious that they'd torn shreds from Ludwig's dignity with each term. He'd worked hard to build his army and his nation and now it was doomed to practically nothing. Gilbert didn't care in the past - all the better if somebody else's country went to shit, it was usually to his advantage anyway - but he didn't take care of Ludwig for this. His rage flared when he saw that his country had been separated from his brother's by some Polish corridor. Also, Posen had been handed over to Feliks. What the hell did that fruit have to do with anything?

"What is this shit?"

"Gilbert, we have to sign this," Ludwig said tiredly, rubbing his temples.

"Like fuck we do."

"Just don't. Let's just sign it and go."

Out of spite, Gilbert made his signature as small as possible. As they made their way out, Gilbert was accosted by the same Feliks, whose name he'd been cursing moments ago, with a disgruntled looking Lithuanian in tow.

"Gilbert, you like, totally belong to me now!"

"No, I like, totally don't." The Prussian spat, noticing Ludwig had made his escape.

"And Liet, you're in on this too! How like, awesome will this be!?"

"Get out of my face," Gilbert muttered, pushing his way past Feliks and Toris.

"Catch you later, sugar!" Feliks called after him before giggling and telling Toris to follow him elsewhere.

When Gilbert finally managed to leave the palace, he found Ludwig outside in the courtyard, watching something with considerable concentration.

"Sorry 'bout that West." He sat down beside his brother and put a hand on his shoulder. "Are you alright?" When he didn't answer, Gilbert followed his gaze until he saw four familiar faces people standing by the fountain. Upon seeing one particular face, Gilbert's stomach seemed to drop.

"Why didn't you tell me about Feliciano Vargas?" Ludwig asked quietly. Gilbert was unable to decipher what it was behind his tone, but whatever it was, it made him uneasy.

In silence, Gilbert watched as Arthur yelled at Alfred for something he said and as Feliciano laughed, leaning against the American's arm for support, as though he'd fall over if he laughed any harder.

Gilbert was now faced with two undesirable options: lie until he was blue in the face or tell the truth. But how could he tell Ludwig that there was a possibility that he was somebody else, that he was once considered to be the Holy Roman Empire - the one Feliciano had held dear to him once? Roderich had said that he'd promised himself to Feliciano all those years ago but that didn't mean he was still his now, did it?

Of course it didn't! Ludwig was his and only his.

But how could Gilbert own up to the fact that he had kept Ludwig from knowing anything about Feliciano Vargas for his own selfish reasons?

How could he lie and say he didn't know who Feliciano Vargas was?

"It wasn't important," Gilbert finally answered, weighed down by defeat and guilt.

"Not important? Gilbert, Italy was one of our allies and we didn't even have a chance to meet with the twins. You only ever told me about them, and not in great detail either, I might add."

"Well you've met him now, haven't you? It's not as if he's of any importance anymore, especially because Italy declared war upon us after being one of our allies." Gilbert felt uncomfortable, his defensiveness kicking in further. He had to steer the conversation in another direction. "Right now, it's just you and me West - we can't rely on anybody else but each other, can we? Don't think about him." Gilbert slid his hand down from his shoulder, across his back and rested it on his waist, bringing himself closer to prove his point. "Am I forgiven?"

"I guess so."

"Good. Come on, let's go home."

* * *

**TBC...

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**

**:D**

**L'Allemagne - 'Germany' in French**

**Here comes your dose of history for this chapter!**

**On 11 November at 11 a.m., 1918, the armistice was called. Foch was about to launch an attack on Germany as Lorraine was still in it's possession, but the news of armistice reached the line before the attack could take place. **

**On 18 January 1919 representatives from 32 Allied nations met at the Palace of Versailles to decide peace terms for the defeated powers. Russia (poor little Commie xD - no, he really was - in 1917 after Brest-Litovsk (Russia's agreement with Germany) the Tsar was overthrown and Russia became communist; in a nutshell) and Germany were excluded. Accompanied by their foreign ministers and advisers, the representatives comprised: Wilson (USA), Lloyd George (G.B.) Clemenceau (France) and Orlando (Italy). This is the reason why Feliciano is there in the beginning. Orlando actually left early after not receiving what he wanted - the port of Fiume which had been granted to Yugoslavia. Being Allies, they didn't get along too well: USA - suspected GB and France of imperialistic intentions i.e., the acquisition of German colonies. GREAT BRITAIN - suspected the French of expansionist Napoleonic tendencies in Europe and G.B and FRANCE - questioned America's commitment to an international peace framework, which subsequently turned out to be correct. A lot of other arguments about land and resources took place and basically the conclusion was this: in late May, it was decided that a war guilt clause should be included as moral justification for reparations, which was known as Article 231 or Clause 231. France wanted full compensation but the USA wanted to link payments with Germany's capacity to pay. Basically, 231 held Germany and co. responsible for all damages and losses. Reparations had to be made and the amount was billions of gold marks. Also, good old Kaiser Wilhelm was absent because he was made to abdicate as part of the bargain for USA's support - Wilson said that he would not cooperate with a non-democratic nation.  
**

**The Treaty of Versailles was signed by German representatives on 28 June 1919 in the Hall of Mirrors in Versailles (MY BIRTHDAY AGAIN XD everything happens on 28 June! haha) There were a HUGE amount of Terms...I'm pretty sure I'm not going to list them all. That's a bit of research for you guys to do ;)  
**

**In the next few chapters I'll be focusing more on Gilbert and Ludwig's relationship. The time period will the the Weimar Republic (1919 - 1939 before WWII, including Hitler's rise to power). I don't think Japan makes an appearance any time soon (sorry D:) and Italy's out of the picture for a while, too, at least until 1930 (if anyone remembers Lithuania's Outsourcing Series...).  
**

* * *

**_Until next time..._  
**


	7. Of Friendship and Feelings

**AN: I finally decided on a new title for this thing! It's a line from one of David Gray's songs 'Silver Lining'. I one hundred percent recommend that you go and listen to some of his stuff. He's got a wonderful voice, but I think he's an acquired taste, you know? He's angsty and I love him. His newest stuff isn't as angsty, so yeah. I recommend listening to anything from White Ladder and Draw The Line. His music inspires me a lot so yeah. 'Draw The Line', 'This Year's Love', 'Say Hello Wave Goodbye' and 'Harder' are a few I would definitely listen to.**

**Now, onto this chapter. I was going to have more Gilbert/Ludwig interaction but then that didn't happen so I guess it's going to have to be next chapter (it will be promise!) - sorry - I know, I'm a bad child D: There's nothing else I can really say about this that can't be said at the end so let's get on with it. **

**Enjoy!  
**

**...**

**I do not own Hetalia**

**...**

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**Chapter Seven: Of Friendship and Feelings  
**

Ludwig had pictured that things would get easier as the world around him got better. There had been unrest due to his new government, and agreeing to take the blame for the war had made his civilians humiliated and angry, but it eased eventually. The people of his country could actually live again; the freedom to speak, to breathe, to be what they wanted to be, was well within their grasp.

But black clouds still lingered in the distance, threatening to hide the sun once again, and their overcast was rapid. Things were not going to get easier, Ludwig realised as he stared down the barrel of Francis' rifle, backed up against a tree.

"We were not unreasonable, Ludwig," the Frenchman said as though they were in the middle of a perfectly friendly conversation. "One repayment is only good enough if the second follows after it's demanded for."

The Allies had demanded an impossible amount of repayments and Ludwig didn't have them to give, so Francis and his soldiers were relentlessly taking what they could at any cost. But Ludwig had had enough. It was his land and they were his people and he would not just step aside and let Francis cross his border and do whatever he wished. He may have been Gilbert's friend, but it didn't mean he would just step aside and let it happen.

He lifted his hand, taking hold of the rifle, and pushed it downwards away from his face. "Leave," he said firmly and evenly. "You've caused enough damage here already - the repayments will be made when we are ready."

Francis chuckled, an amused look on his face, but there was a hint of a glare in his eyes. "I think you will find that the repayments will be made when we demand them, _mon petit _Ludwig." And without warning, save for the quick lowering of his rifle, he fired a shot which hit Ludwig in the shin. "Let that be a reminder," the Francis said with a menacing calm to his voice, pushing the German back further into the rough tree bark, "that the Allies are right, and you are to blame for this. Nobody else but you."

His words barely registered in Ludwig's mind - all he could focus on was the pain and the anger he felt surging through his body, setting his nerves alight with dangerous electricity. Francis sauntered away as if teasing Ludwig. Come on and fight back, he said with every look over his shoulder. But no, all he could do was try to keep himself upright, to go home and fix the wound - there were no doctors or nurses around amongst the chaos and everyone else around him had their own problems, their own lives to save. At least Ludwig had the comfort of a home to return to.

It's not too far now, Ludwig told himself as he attempted to walk home with as much dignity as possible, trying not to stagger or fall into a heap, which was getting more difficult the further he went. He'd seen people who'd suffered in the trenches, who'd been starving and had next to no strength left get shot in the leg get up and keep going before, so there was no reason why he couldn't. And the Ruhr was under attack - he couldn't let himself fall to a small injury, not when his people needed his help.

When he was just yards from his house, Ludwig was ambushed by something or somebody jumping onto his back and knocking him to the ground. His shin hit the ground hard, the pain causing his eyes to prickle with tears. He shouted an angry string of German curses, suspecting it was Gilbert, briefly wondering why he hadn't said anything yet or started cackling, and tried to roll over so he could throttle him. He realised that it wasn't in fact Gilbert when his attacker immediately got up and moved away from him as soon as he'd moved, and started spouting a ridiculous amount of whiny apologies, begging Ludwig not to hurt or kill him.

"Calm down," Ludwig grumbled as he tried to forget the pain for a moment so he could focus on the person kneeling beside him. To his surprise and complete shock, Feliciano Vargas was peering at him with his large hazel eyes, wet with tears just like the last time they'd met. "What are you doing here?" Ludwig suddenly forgot his surprise and sat up, ready to reach for his gun. Feliciano seemed utterly useless, but Ludwig was still weary. He didn't allow himself to get too confident.

"U-Um, well, I wanted to see you!"

"Why?" Ludwig asked cautiously.

"I wanted to be friends! Yes, friends, and-and it looks like you needed help so I thought I would--"

"I don't need or want your help, I'm--"

"Ve~ Mister Germany! Your leg is bleeding! Come on," Feliciano got to his feet and started pulling at Ludwig's arms. "I'll take you home and I'll bandage that for you! I really can help you - I'll be a good friend for you!"

Ludwig wanted to protest, but he really was having difficulty moving, and he found that the determination he saw on Feliciano's face was wearing down his resolve. So instead of telling the little Italian man to go home, he sighed to himself and agreed to let him help.

"Here, you can lean on me! I'm so happy you want to be my friend!"

Ludwig closed his eyes and counted in his head, willing away the headache Feliciano was starting to give him. "You can call me Ludwig, if you want."

"Ludwig? Ludwig..." Feliciano repeated, his name sounding strange, not quite rolling off the Italian tongue easily. "Hi, my name is Feliciano Vargas and this is my new friend Ludwig." Feliciano turned his head so he could smile at Ludwig. "That sounds good, doesn't it?"

Ludwig raised his eyebrow, feeling his face burn a little at Feliciano's forward manner. He was certainly the most peculiar person Ludwig had met. "Er, well...look, here's my house so I'll just... open the door." The German found himself worrying about the state of everything inside, wondering whether he'd dusted recently, mopped the floors, made sure the pillows were fluffed...

"Wow! Your house is so big!"

"Thank you?"

"Right, sit over there and I will make you better." Feliciano practically dragged him over to the armchair by the bookshelf in the corner of the room; he was surprisingly gentle when it came to placing his legs up on the foot stool, though. "Are you comfortable? Here, I'll get some pillows. Or I can get a blanket or--"

Just by saying his name firmly in an attempt to get him to stop had him crying and apologising.

"Feliciano, I'm fine, I don't need pillows. Just go to the bathroom upstairs - first door on the left - and in the cabinet on the wall beside the mirror there's some bandages, disinfectant and all the things you'll need for stitching."

The Italian nodded vigorously before running up the stairs. Ludwig could hear him making little exclamations in his own tongue and his footsteps upstairs and imagined he was exploring instead of doing what he was supposed to.

A good ten minutes later, Feliciano came back down with a large bowl full of steaming water and his uniform all out of order. He placed the water down beside the foot stool and started to pull things out of his pockets, dropping the items unceremoniously on the floor, making Ludwig clench his fists slightly. He willed himself to remain calm - yelling at Feliciano wouldn't get anything done, though he had to tell him to be more careful when he pulled the scissors out from his breast pocket and let them fall to the floor. Ludwig asked himself whether it was really wise to let Feliciano take care of his leg, but never got to the answer because Feliciano had lifted his legs so he could sit down and rest them on his lap, scissors already in hand. There was that look of determination on his face again and Ludwig couldn't help but sit back and watch. He was the only one who was able to help him at that moment, after all.

"Ve~ Ludwig, can I tell you something?"

"I suppose so."

Feliciano looked thoughtful as he cut away at the material of his trouser leg. "I asked big brother Francis not to be mean to Germany because I remembered meeting you a few years ago in the forest and you didn't look like a bad person. And I know it wasn't your fault the war started in the first place so I thought it wasn't fair that--"

"Shit!" Ludwig hissed, causing Feliciano to drop the tweezers with the bloodied, freshly plucked bullet in between them.

"I'm sorry! Please don't hurt me!"

"Feliciano." Ludwig grimaced as he sat forward to pat the Italian on the arm. "Just tell me when you're going to do something like that next time."

"O-Okay. Germans are really stern," Feliciano murmured under his breath as he leant down to pick up the bottle of disinfectant.

A few moments of awkward silence passed between the two before Feliciano spoke again.

"I know I've met you before. You know, before all of this, but I can't remember when. You remind me of somebody I used to know and I told myself I'd never forget what he looked like but his face is all blurry when I try to remember. But he had eyes that are a bit like yours."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Feliciano said happily, poking the end of the thread through the eye of the needle. "I know I'll be able to see him again one day or at least find out what happened to him all those years ago. Once I do then everything else won't matter." He did seem happy, but there was something in the way that he spoke that told Ludwig otherwise. There was a sad longing to his voice, like he was empty on the inside. But he had such a cheerful, full demeanor, so was it a shield? Ludwig didn't want to look too much into it, but he hated seeing people upset. "Ve~ I wish we could have been friends sooner. This will probably sting a little bit..."

"We could have been - _ouch_ - when Italy was Germany's ally but we never got a chance to meet. Gilbert, my older brother, never told me about you."

Feliciano gave him a knowing little smile. "He sounds like my older brother Lovino. He didn't want anything to do with anybody else so he never mentioned you either. He's always so angry and he's not very nice but I know he loves me."

Ludwig found himself really missing Gilbert; they hadn't seen one another for a few weeks at least and he missed talking to him, arguing with him and putting up with his tendency to become clingy. Not that he minded having his brother's undivided attention.

"Can I come and see you again? Now that I know where I can find you?" Feliciano asked after he'd finished wrapping the bandages around Ludwig's leg.

"We'll see." Ludwig was surprised at how well Feliciano had done. It almost felt as good as new. "I hardly have time for anything outside of work these days."

"Well we should make time, shouldn't we?" The Italian beamed at him before giving him a two-fingered salute. "See you soon, Ludwig!

"Hi, my name is Feliciano Vargas and this is my new friend Ludwig," Feliciano said to himself as he left Ludwig's house, a little spring in his step. Ludwig shook his head and settled back into his chair.

Feliciano Vargas came across as a useless idiot the first time they'd met and certainly not the kind of person Ludwig would ever consider being friends with. But he wasn't a useless idiot at all. Of course, he was loud and had a little less reservation than Ludwig would have liked, but he was happy, he was zealous and full of life; something Ludwig wasn't at all used to. And he liked the prospect of having a friend like Feliciano.

And then he realised...Feliciano was the first real friend he'd had apart from Gilbert. Everyone else in the world had turned their backs on him because of the war, but not Feliciano. He still wanted to be friends after everything that had happened. Maybe he was just thick-headed and naive, but it meant a lot nonetheless. And a friend might just be of use to him in the future.

* * *

Here we are again, Gilbert thought to himself as he watched Antonio from the corner of his eye. He brought his knee up to his chest and rested his chin on the joint, wrapping his arms around his leg for support. On his other side, there was an empty space on the bench where Francis should have been, but he was too busy being an un-awesome jerk-faced arsehole, spending more time with Arthur and terrorizing his little brother, instead of making up that other important third in their trio. How could they be the Bad Friends Trio if he wasn't even there?

Antonio sighed and leaned back on his hands, his features set in a concerned expression instead of his usual glowing smile.

"You alright, Antonio?" Gilbert hoped the Spaniard had some sort of crisis happening in his life so he could tell him all about it and take his mind off his own problems.

"Perfectly fine," Antonio said softly, scuffing his feet in the snow. "Lovi's just being impossible of late."

"And what's so shocking about that? He's always so fucking pissy. I don't know why you bother."

Antonio gave a small laugh. "You know why I bother, _mi amigo_; the same reason why you bother with Ludwig."

"Yeah, _but_, West's not a pedantic little drama queen."

"You may have a point there. Anyway, Feliciano's been bothering him ever since the war ended. He keeps telling him about this little encounter he had in the woods during the war with a big scary German. Lovino says that he hates them and doesn't want to hear but little Feli just doesn't give up."

Gilbert rolled his eyes.

"I asked him what this big scary German looked like," Antonio continued after sitting himself up with his legs crossed. "And the description he gave me basically fit Ludwig. Did he tell you anything about it?"

"No," The Prussian said tersely. "He just asked me why I didn't tell him about the little pasta bastard is all. I said it wasn't important."

"Would it really be so bad if they were to be friends, Gilbert?"

"You don't get it, Antonio. Feliciano Vargas is infatuated with this little representation that was the Holy Roman Empire and the last time that they came face to face, he thought West was him. He may have been then but he doesn't remember and now he's a different person. I want him to live as Germany's spirit, not in the shadow of a dead nation, 'cause he's a great person and he deserves it."

Antonio's face softened. "I understand how you feel, Gilbert. You don't want anyone else to take him away from you because you love him."

"Yeah, he's my brother, of course I love him." Gilbert blamed the cold for the colour in his cheeks.

"You're in love with him, though, aren't you Gilbert?" Antonio nudged him in the ribs, unable to keep the grin off his face.

"Tell anybody and you die. I'm not even joking. That goes for the stuff I said before, too." Gilbert punched him in the arm and attempted to push him off the bench into the snow.

"Of course, Gilbert. You're tough. You're cold and brooding and completely without a heart."

"Damn straight!"

"You should tell him what you told me."

Gilbert snorted. "Only if you tell your precious little tomato."

"I already have," Antonio claimed proudly.

"And get him to believe it and not have a cow about it."

"I accept your challenge - I shall tell him this evening. You'll do the same?"

Gilbert groaned and slumped forward. "Do I have to?"

"What are you afraid of?"

There were a thousand things to be afraid of: rejection, humiliation, all of which the awesome Prussian did not deal well with. Also...what would happen if things changed between them? They could both end up hurt and then it would all end in a mess and Gilbert could lose both a brother and...

Gilbert sighed. It all came down to what mattered the most. Did he want a brother or something that stretched beyond those boundaries more? He couldn't decide.

Couldn't he have both?

"I still want a family; I want to give him a family, Antonio, and telling him all of this would ruin it."

"Or it could make it better."

"Stop being so damn optimistic, will ya?"

"Listen." Antonio put an arm around Gilbert and squeezed his shoulder. "Whatever you choose to do, it will be the right decision. In these situations, you have to be selfish, and you never know, Ludwig might feel exactly the same."

Gilbert thought back to the afternoon before the news of the Archduke had reached them for the millionth time since it happened. He could have kissed him back. He could have reacted a whole lot worse than he did, on the other hand.

Why did he have to be uncharacteristically rational, damn it?

"I don't know, I give up."

Antonio pinched his cheek and chuckled. "No you don't. It's getting dark so I should probably head back home and make sure Lovino is alive and well."

"With any luck, he may have choked on a tomato seed."

"Don't be nasty - and it's impossible to choke on a tomato seed; they're tiny."

Gilbert cackled. "It's not impossible if you're allergic!" He called to Antonio as they went their separate ways.

It was dark by the time Gilbert reached Ludwig's house, and by the looks of things, it seemed that Ludwig had turned in early. What greeted him when he got inside (broke in) was a surprise - there was a pile of medical supplies by Ludwig's chair and the pillows and foot stool were out of place. Gilbert punched his open palm. If Francis did anything, he was going to give him what was coming to him ten fold.

"Hey West," Gilbert called out softly when he entered his brother's room. He received no reply so he opted for getting closer to investigate. Ludwig had fallen asleep on top of his blankets, and because he was uncovered Gilbert could see his bandaged leg. He would have been furious but Ludwig looked peaceful.

Being the generous older brother he was, Gilbert decided to fix that. Careful to avoid bumping his injured leg, he flopped down on top of Ludwig and had to bite back the urge to laugh when the German woke up and started grumbling incoherently.

"Hey, West. Did you miss me?"

* * *

**TBC...

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**

**Ok, so, in my last author's notes I lied. He just popped out of nowhere, I swear! I couldn't just leave him out until the 1930's - they're ages away! D: I'm talking about Italy, by the way. In my head-cannon, Italy is a big dummy but he's not...you know? So Italy-like. **

**Oh and that reminds me; why is it that people write "Italy" for Feliciano and "Romano" for Lovino in the same fic? It just confuses me - they're not separate nation-people, are they? I mean, if they're not in the same fic, that's totally fine, or even in the same scene, but...eh? I don't get it. I just...d'ughh, anyways, on with the historical notes for this chapater.**

**This chapter begins in January 1923 when the Ruhr (I'm sure that's spelled wrong, but when I looked it up in other places, that's how it was spelled but it looks wrong to me...anywho) was occupied by the French. The Ruhr was one of Germany's greatest resource areas in terms of coal, iron and steel and the French invaded on the 11th in order to gain the reparations that Germany owed. Approximately one-hundred people were killed due to this and it led to passive resistance and then economic collapse and hyperinflation in 1924. Before all of this there was unrest from both the right and left-wing political movements - nobody was happy with Ebert, the appointed Chancellor and socialist, and they wanted to take him down, basically. **

**The Kapp Putsch, lead by Wolfgang Kapp, occurred in March 1920. It was sparked by an attempt to reconstruct the peacetime army and the free corps. A worker's strike paralysed Berlin and the working class parties (left-wing) organised a Red Army in the Ruhr area. The Putsch failed because Kapp lost his nerve and fled to Sweden. Well done, Mr. Kapp. Because of the Red Army in the Ruhr, when the French came along, they had the weapons with them and were able to fight, but apparently they weren't strong enough. **

**Three years later on 8 November 1923, Adolf Hitler made a name for himself in politics. The Munich Putsch (also known as the Beer Hall Putsch, 'cause that's where it took place, but it sounds like one big party that way XD) was a right-wing challenge to the Bavarian government. With 600 stormtroopers (SA) for support, Hitler announced the overthrow of the government and claimed that a new national government under General Ludendorff should be in place. The State Commissioner of Bavaria and leading military and police figures disagreed with this and Hitler was unable to convince them further. After this Hitler and Ludendorff were arrested and charged with treason. He was sentenced to 5 years in Landsberg fortress but he was released after 18 months.  
**

**That's where I'm going to stop before my head explodes. I know none of that was mentioned in this chapter, but it doesn't play too much of a role in this fic just yet. But I hope you guys liked this. Reviews are much loved :3  
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**_Until next time..._  
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	8. Of Changing and Persuading

**AN: A much shorter chapter this time, I must apologise, but I don't think you guys will be too disappointed. There's not too much to say about this chapter, only: I'm a little nervous haha. No history this time, sorry everyone! **

**Enjoy!  
**

**...**

**I do not own Hetalia**

**...**

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**Chapter Eight: Of Changing, Persuading and Kisses  
**

"Hey West," Gilbert called out softly when he entered his brother's room. He received no reply so he opted for getting closer to investigate. Ludwig had fallen asleep on top of his blankets, and because he was uncovered Gilbert could see his bandaged leg. He would have been furious but Ludwig looked peaceful.

Being the generous older brother he was, Gilbert decided to fix that. Careful to avoid bumping his injured leg, he flopped down on top of Ludwig and had to bite back the urge to laugh when the German woke up and started grumbling incoherently.

"Hey, West. Did you miss me?"

"_Gilbert_...it's too early to be dealing with you."

The Prussian smirked. He knew Ludwig didn't mean that - there was never a right or wrong time, never too early or late, to deal with Gilbert Weillschmidt; he was just too awesome. Everyone was in the mood for his company, and the more they denied it, the more they wanted it.

Before he could launch his favourite attack (and undoubtedly Ludwig's favourite, too) - a good old-fashioned ear-sucking - Ludwig rolled over and pushed him away. "Leave me alone," he muttered with a hiss of pain that didn't escape Gilbert's notice.

Gilbert propped himself up on his elbow and rested his chin in the palm of his hand. "It can't be too early, West; it's night time." Ludwig sighed exasperatedly without gracing his statement with an answer. "So are you going to tell me what happened to your leg, brother of mine?"

"Nothing happened."

Gilbert clicked his tongue. "Come on - you don't have to be brave around me." He shuffled closer and put his arm around Ludwig, cuddling closer so his chest was flush against his brother's solid back.

"_Gilbert_--"

"It's cold, West, and you don't have nearly enough clothing on to keep you warm." Gilbert didn't need the light on to know Ludwig was blushing - he could feel it and hear it in his voice.

"And you suppose that you're a reasonable substitute?"

"I could be if you wanted me to be," Gilbert purred into his ear and nuzzled into his hair. When he felt Ludwig move he cackled and held onto him tighter so he wouldn't be able to get away. "Relax, West. Don't move that leg around too much otherwise it won't get better, assuming it's a break."

"It's not a break."

"Then what is it?"

Ludwig didn't answer and the two remained silent for what seemed like forever. Gilbert felt himself start to drift off, wondering whether Ludwig had fallen asleep himself, but promptly forced himself to be alert when the other spoke.

"Francis' lack of patience got the better of him. His boss wanted the reparations and we couldn't give them to him. Then Feliciano helped me home and cleaned me up."

Gilbert rubbed Ludwig's shoulder in a comforting gesture, trying to calm himself down whilst his temper spiked. He stopped himself from interrogating his brother about it - if anything of great significance had happened, he would've sensed it immediately. Ludwig was too honest and wouldn't have been able to hide it in any case.

Gilbert resumed his tight hold and breathed in Ludwig's scent (entirely his own, which was a comfort). "Well I hope Francis knows what's coming to him." _Feliciano, too._

The Prussian was beginning to wonder just how much he actually needed Francis' friendship. Of course in the past he'd been of some value to Gilbert, he was important, and to think of throwing it away was unthinkable. But Ludwig was important, too.

Very, very important.

"Leave it alone, Gilbert."

"I'll leave it alone, alright. Don't worry." He could already see the French bastard running away with his tail between his legs after he broke his perfect, pretty little face with his awesome.

"I know what your 'don't worries' mean, so it's a little hard for me not to."

Gilbert smirked and suddenly he was hit with a thought. "Alright fine. But I have a proposition for you." He shuffled back and propped himself up on his elbow, his smirk widening by the second.

Ludwig groaned and rolled over to face him. "What?"

"I won't get involved if you..." Gilbert placed a hand on Ludwig's face, running his thumb gently along his cheek "...kiss me."

He had half expected Ludwig to roll back over and ignore him or to yell at him for being so daft or something because really, it was a rather immature trade and it wasn't exactly conventional. But instead, even in the dark, he saw a strange almost skeptical expression cross his face and he knew Ludwig was thinking about the last time their lips met, but even so he propped himself up so their faces were level, eye to eye. Gilbert swallowed, willing himself to do something, smirk again to lighten the situation, but it was though he was frozen which was just as well because Ludwig leaned in until their noses were barely touching, and he felt the words 'just messin' with ya' dissolve on his tongue. He decided that his next action would either take them to a point where they could go back if they wanted to, only it would be rearranged and unfamiliar somehow, or it would push them apart, further than ever before.

Inside his head he could see Antonio's smile and his voice saying '_you don't want anyone else to take him away from you because you're in love him_' and that's what made him close the gap between them so he could feel Ludwig's lips against his own.

His arms, seemingly disconnected from his mind just like the rest of his body, moved on their own; one hooked around Ludwig's neck, the other around his waist, pulling him closer. He opened his mouth slightly, pressing deeply into the kiss, coaxing Ludwig to do the same. Ludwig complied almost immediately, his hand coming up to rest on the side of Gilbert's neck, palm against his pulse. He felt his skin tingle and burn pleasantly, overpowering the nervous knots tying themselves tighter inside his stomach.

Gilbert almost laughed out loud at the very prospect of being scared of a kiss. He'd been around long enough to know how kisses worked and what they felt like, but he wanted to handle the situation with Ludwig with a lot more care and consideration, without the fly-away concern - or lack thereof - he'd had in the past. Nothing had meant more to him than it did now and he wanted to be certain, to make Ludwig certain, that he was committing himself to this for a reason and not for the sake of Just Because.

Gilbert traced his tongue along Ludwig's lower lip, pulling away slightly so he could nip at the flesh gently, smirking to himself when he heard his brother's shaky intake of breath. He deepened the kiss and slid his tongue along Ludwig's, giving into and becoming entirely lost in the feeling of the slick heat of his mouth. Nothing could compare to the pleasurable shocks that danced through his veins, and he wouldn't trade the elation he felt for anything in the world.

For just a while there was no world outside, no Feliks keeping a watchful eye on him - there was just Ludwig pressed against him, letting him know that he needed him with each touch of fingers against his skin, with each caress of his lips. Ludwig needed him just like he needed Ludwig and it felt incredible because he knew that nobody else could touch it, nobody else could understand it.

Gilbert let go of Ludwig's waist and stretched his arm across so he could lean in and over more, bringing his leg up and over so he was straddling his brother. He felt him tense beneath him; he brought his hands to his shoulders and touched him reassuringly.

A tiny voice in his head was telling him something, frustratingly distracting him like a mosquito whining in his ear. You need to catch your breath. You need to remember that it's your little brother you're touching like that.

Gilbert pulled away and looked into Ludwig's eyes, searching in the dark for something he couldn't name, didn't want to name, lest it was all just a mistake, a misunderstanding that Gilbert had taken much too far.

"Are you okay, West?"

The voice was wrong - Ludwig wasn't his little brother. No, beneath him lay a grown man who was once a very small, lost and frightened boy. The man beneath him now had become strong and independent - they weren't the same; they were what was essentially Germany and Prussia. Prussia and Germany. They weren't the same at all. And when they were together, they weren't anything but a soul and a shield. Gilbert was Ludwig's shield, he was his guardian, somebody he could call his brother because...because it just fit. Not because they were, but because it gave them a universal title just in case they became lost and didn't have a friend. Friends were replaceable, dispensable, but family wasn't. They would always have family to turn to. Gilbert didn't have to call Ludwig his little brother anymore, not if he didn't want to - it wouldn't change anything - but it was familiar and it came so naturally.

He ran his fingers through Ludwig's no longer slicked back hair and cupped his face in his hands, trying to lure an answer from him, but he was only greeted with silence. He could see Ludwig's mind working through his eyes, formulating words and answers but nothing was clear to him, and nothing seemed right enough to say out loud. Ludwig copied his previous actions and ran his fingers through his hair. Gilbert turned his head, leaning into the touches.

"You know I love you, don't you?" Ludwig nodded slowly and he barely suppressed a yawn. Gilbert smiled, leaning in to rest his forehead against Ludwig's. "How about we get some sleep? The awesome has to get back home at some point tomorrow - there's stuff that needs to be taken care of; it's never ending, I swear."

Gilbert placed a gentle kiss on Ludwig's lips and then on his forehead before moving to the other side of the bed, giving Ludwig his space. He shrugged off his jacket and let it fall onto the floor without much thought, only just realising how hot he was and how hard his heart was beating, pounding it's way against his ribs as though it wanted to escape.

"Gilbert." The Prussian heard Ludwig's calm voice sound once they'd both settled down and into the blankets.

"Yeah, West, I'm listening." He heard Ludwig swallow and then the slide of shifting sheets before he felt a warm hand brush against his own.

"I've wanted to..." he cleared his throat. "I've wanted that for a long time."

Gilbert closed his eyes and smiled slightly. "Mm, me too. 'Night, West."

"'Night."

Before the darkness of sleep took him away, Gilbert's fingers laced together with Ludwig's, and he hoped that the strange feeling inside his chest, the uneasiness, the uncertainty, would go away eventually. There was nothing wrong with being a little wary of something new. Gilbert put it down to not wanting to hurt Ludwig, putting the onus on himself to make sure he wasn't the sole cause of his pain - he still wanted the German to know he would always have Gilbert to turn to, brother or otherwise, and that he would still always protect him.

But one thing was for certain - Ludwig was definitely his now, whether it was right or wrong, and nothing would come between them, not now that they had reached the present point together. 

* * *

**TBC...

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**

**Lame chapter is lame. **

**I almost forgot to mention this, but somebody - I won't mention who - sent me a PM not long ago and commented that Gilbert was too soft and OOC. I apologise but I've been trying to keep him IC as much as possible whilst trying to write how I think he would behave around Ludwig whilst having these sorts of feelings. Not to worry, though - WWII hasn't started yet, and neither has the Nazi rise to power so hold your horses. You'll get to see another side of our favourite, awesome nation soon enough (may or may not be a great thing). I hoped you enjoyed this anyway...  
**

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**_Until next time..._  
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	9. Of Communists and Conferences

**AN: Wow, sorry for the late chapter. You know how you get to a certain place and then you get stuck and you can't write anymore? Luckily I had an idea and then I was able to continue. I wrote the bulk of it three days ago but it just didn't want to finish!**

**Anyways, there's not a lot of historical happenings here but there will be some notes at the end anyway. It makes me happy that you guys like to read 'em :D History is such a sexy subject XD  
**

**Enjoy!  
**

**...**

**I do not own Hetalia**

**...**

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**Chapter Nine: Of Communists and Conferences  
**

Ludwig wasn't surprised when he visited Gilbert at nine a.m. sharp and found him still in bed, buried beneath his blankets, Gilbird resting on the pillow beside him. The little yellow ball of feathers and fluff chirped a hello, whilst Gilbert muttered an incoherent couple of words.

"I did say I was coming over at nine, Gilbert - it's now four minutes past. Did you forget you were supposed to be coming with me today?"

A large, pale hand made its way out from the top of the covers to pull them down a little, revealing a pair of bleary crimson eyes with bags underneath them. "But West," Gilbert whined in a voice softened by sleep, "I'm tired - don't make me get out of bed." He pulled the blankets down a little more until they were resting just beneath his chin. There was a devilish smirk on his face. "You should take your boots off and climb in here with me. It's nice and warm."

Ludwig's face flushed immediately as he scowled and folded his arms. "You wouldn't be so tired if you'd gone to bed at a reasonable hour last night. There's a mile of empty steins on the kitchen table - unwashed, I might add - and rubbish littered all over the place. You need to take more care of yourself, Gilbert."

Gilbert huffed and rubbed his eyes, muttering himself as he managed to sit himself upright. Of course, he wasn't wearing anything to cover his top half, despite the cold weather. Ludwig suppressed the urge to roll his eyes.

"That's what I have you for, West. You always take care of me, and you do it so well, too."

"Stop that, Gilbert. Saying such things won't get you anywhere, no matter how sweet you think you're being. Now, are you getting up or not?"  
The Prussian groaned emphatically and swung his legs over the side of the bed, getting to his feet.

"So bossy," he muttered, smirking slightly when Ludwig rolled his eyes. Gilbird, trying his best not to be ignored, chirped in agreement.

"Considering how old you are, Gilbert, you're not very mature."

"Who needs to be mature when they have centuries of wisdom and awesome on their side?" Gilbert chuckled to himself, wrapping his arms affectionately around his brother's neck, effectively bringing their bodies closer. "And did you just call me sweet?"

As much as Ludwig wanted to remain composed and annoyed at Gilbert, he just couldn't. Especially not when he could feel the warmth of his body through his uniform (or was that just him?) and his bare skin beneath his hands. Gilbert had always had that frustrating knack that rendered him powerless, no matter what.

But Ludwig was quietly happy, quietly elated just the same – though he wasn't going to run around and shout at the top of his voice like a fool. When he was on his own, he would smile to himself and think back to the way Gilbert had held him, had touched him, how his lips had all but devoured his own. Even though no one else had been there to see it and it had been what he'd wanted for the longest time, his face still burned whenever he remembered the way the kiss had made him feel. He both wanted and didn't want to admit that he was just a little embarrassed. They were both men, they were family and it wasn't...it didn't seem altogether right. Even though they weren't human, (but the heart and soul and spirit of their respective nations), and they weren't really brothers, Ludwig still considered them being family. Gilbert had treated him like he imagined an older brother would. He'd raised him to be strong, to make Gilbert proud, like he supposed an older brother would. How could he say that the Prussian wasn't family to him?

But that was all in hindsight. Whenever their lips met all of those thoughts disappeared and he was just left with the feeling of Gilbert's tongue sliding against his own, his hands on his face, his shoulders, arms and hips, pulling him in until they were impossibly close. And when they were together like that, there was no way in hell that he would ever say it was wrong.

What was so wrong about being in love? Never mind who that person was, it shouldn't matter, Ludwig thought. Everyone, regardless their age, gender or social standing, should have the right to love whoever they choose. It was right and just, but Ludwig couldn't help but feel uneasy.  
How would people feel if they knew?

"You're so absolutely right Gilbert; of course you're awesome. Why thank you, West - I'm so glad you agree with me," the Prussian said with mild sarcasm, lips brushing against the shell of Ludwig's ear.

The German shuddered slightly, pressing his fingers slightly into Gilbert's shoulder blades. Damn it, he had to pull himself together otherwise he'd never get anything done. He had an important meeting to go to, as much as he would have liked to stay trapped under his older brother's mischievously seductive spell.

"So aren't you able to come with me today?" Ludwig managed to ask, his voice unconvincingly stern.

Gilbert huffed petulantly and pulled out of the embrace slightly, his hands coming to rest on Ludwig's shoulders. "I'd love to but Her Highness requests my presence. You've got this meeting in the bag, West."

"You're just saying that because you don't want to see Ivan Braginski. I know what you're like, Gilbert."

"Ugh." Gilbert shuddered. "Can you blame me for hating him? He's so creepy and don't you think its weird how he looks at everybody with that smile on his face? The smile doesn't even reach his eyes, and that's not normal."

Ludwig groaned, pushing him away slightly. "Gilbert. Come on, I'm already late. Go and put some clothes on and be productive for a change."

Gilbert cackled with much mirth. "Oh West, I'm always productive."

"Well that remains to be seen. Are you still coming around for dinner this evening?"

Gilbert smirked and tapped the end of his nose with his finger. "You know it. Besides, there's no food here so I'd be there anyway without the invitation."

"You're hopeless. Now go and put something on before you freeze."

Ludwig was delayed another fifteen minutes because Gilbert decided that today was the day where he couldn't make his bed on his own or find anything to wear. He was on the verge of becoming angry the entire time but the little pang of guilt stopped him from becoming so.

Although he didn't show it, Gilbert was lonely. Yes, they were allowed to see one another but not as much as they used to, and when they did see one another Ludwig let himself become touchy when Gilbert teased him. He supposed it was because of the stress his government, people and he himself were under. The economy was doing better than it had been but it still wasn't fantastic.

Ludwig also suspected it was the change in their relationship that made him so touchy, but he just didn't want to do anything wrong by Gilbert or himself.

"Hey West," Gilbert said, though his voice was lower this time. It caused Ludwig's heart to beat just that little bit faster. The entire time he had been fussing over his older brother, he looked as though he'd wanted to say something but he never did. Ludwig guessed that this might be the beginning, the little bit of procrastination before he revealed what had been on his mind.

"Yes, Gilbert?"

"I want you to sleep with me," Gilbert admitted after a few moments' silence.

Ludwig had been standing at the open door way, his back to his brother. He was thankful for this – he felt his skin burn with embarrassment and nervousness. He didn't think he'd be able to face those crimson eyes imploring him to respond to his request.

"I always do when you come over." He couldn't help his voice faltering. He knew what Gilbert meant but...

Gilbert chuckled and was suddenly behind him – Ludwig could feel his breath against his neck.

"I want to show you how much I love you, West. I've been holding back for a long time but I don't think I can anymore."

He'd been telling himself it would happen eventually. Gilbert had been more insistent with his touches, but Ludwig became too anxious and was afraid of his own naivety. He wanted it though, and he himself couldn't hold back for much longer either. Gilbert made him want more (he was good at that, Ludwig noticed) and how many nights had he been wondering what it would be like to be with Gilbert like that? How many nights had he brought himself to his peak with his brother's name on his lips?

Swallowing and gripping onto the side of the doorframe, Ludwig nodded slowly. "Tonight?" He didn't turn around.

Gilbert hummed in agreement. "Though if I could have you now, I would."

Ludwig barely managed to say that he really had to be going and that he would see him later, before leaving as hastily as he could.  
He had no real reason to be nervous, but there was something niggling in the back of his mind. Gilbert was just impatient, and he always had been, Ludwig reasoned. But somehow he wasn't content with that. Something about Gilbert was off...he'd noticed it more and more but he couldn't put his finger on what that something was.

When they were together they talked more about themselves than anything else. Gilbert was more than happy to talk about his glory days, which was nothing new, not really. But he rarely spoke about anybody else and whenever Ludwig talked of Arthur or Feliciano (especially Feliciano), Gilbert would surreptitiously steer the conversation back to where it had been previously. Though, he was getting more obvious – it was crystal clear that the Prussian didn't want to talk about the others. No one had shown them any real empathy or offered a hand (except for America, perhaps) and that obviously upset Gilbert. But did it upset him too much, Ludwig wondered?

The German shook his head. He was over-thinking things. And now his head would be all over the place for the meeting. Just what he needed.

* * *

Lovino Vargas was pissed off.

No, scratch that. He was fucking furious.

It didn't take much to get the Southern Italian's hackles up, no, but it took a bit of pushing to get him truly, viciously angry.

They were spending the day together, something they didn't get much of a chance to do, and everything was going smoothly – Lovino found himself actually happy for a change. But this was all before Feliciano made a particular suggestion:

"Ve~ I think we should visit Ludwig tonight, fratello. It'd be good to get out of the house for a change, don't you think?"

And he said it so easily! Lovino ignored the fact that he was blushing as well – he had to otherwise he knew he'd explode. He was livid enough as it was.

His idiot of a little brother had been all sighs and smiles for ages and whenever Lovino questioned him about it, all he would talk about was some arsehole by the name of 'Ludwig'. What, didn't people have last names this day and age?

Feliciano would say that he was tall and strong-looking and handsome but so stern, but in a good way, of course, and that Lovino should meet him because he was certain that Lovino would like him very much, almost as much as Feliciano did which was more than likely and most probably impossible.

Why couldn't the Northern Italian say nice things like that about him? He was his brother, after all. Yes, they'd been separated for a long time when they were growing up but so what? That didn't change anything – Lovino was still his cooler, older brother that he should be proud of, damn it.  
Lovino glared at Feliciano, who remained blissfully unaware. He was too busy twirling a daisy between his fingers, watching as the white petals danced with the movement.

"No, I don't think its good at all," Lovino snapped, kicking a small stone at his feet. It skittered across the ground and bounced into the water. "I don't know who this Ludwig person is, but he sounds like an untrustworthy bastard to me. And look at me when I'm talking to you, damn it!"

With a sigh and a barely-concealed look of exasperation, Feliciano tucked the flower into the pocket of his jacket and looked at Lovino.

"Come on, Lovi. Ludwig's so cool, you'll see." He had his hands clasped together, pleading Lovino to agree.

Well, he wasn't going to budge, not for all the tomatoes in the world.

"If he's that good," Lovino began coolly, "then you should go by yourself. Wouldn't want you having to share him with your obviously second-best, uncool older brother. That just wouldn't be fair would it?"

"You're being stupid," Feliciano said with a pout. "I never said you were second-best or uncool. I just want you to meet somebody who makes me very happy. That would make you happy, too, wouldn't it Lovi?"

Damn it – Feliciano knew how to be unbearably cute and persuasive. Not that Lovino was often persuaded by his brother's antics. In any case, it was only mid-morning. He'd probably forget all about it once it was evening.

"Come on, let's go home. I'm starving."

* * *

Grey smoke curled up into the air to form lazy and indefinable patterns before bleeding into the thick cloud that lingered just below the ceiling.  
As if the tension in the room wasn't making it hard enough to breathe.

Ludwig sat at the head of the table, constantly suppressing the urge to bang his head against the hard mahogany surface. Seated on the left-hand side of the table were Alfred F. Jones and Toris Lorinatis. Ludwig was informed quite haughtily by Alfred that the Lithuanian was staying with him because he needed financial support and a strong shoulder to lean on – in other words he needed a hero. All the while he kept one eye pointedly on Ivan Braginski, who was seated on the right-hand side of the table.

It was all well and good that America had agreed to aid Germany financially but Ludwig had a feeling that Alfred was a bit of a troublemaker and his main aim for today was to prove how much better he was than Ivan. And Toris, who was pale and looked as though he would faint at any moment, was caught in the middle of it.

Ludwig felt the most sorry for him, and he had to wonder whether Alfred found out that Ivan was going to be in Berlin just so he could invite himself over to rub it in. It wasn't necessary for him to come all the way from his home just to tell Ludwig that he was still going to support him because Ludwig already knew, so what other reason did he have for travelling all the way to Berlin?

Apart from all that, the meeting had gone according to plan – even though all he could focus on was Gilbert's voice in his head. The hairs on the back of his neck still stood up when he thought about what he'd said.

"Could you put that cigar out, comrade? I'm sure you're the only one here getting any enjoyment out of it."

The Russian's eyes darkened slightly as he spoke, and Ludwig felt the tension building further.

Alfred chuckled slightly before taking his feet off the table (Ludwig had chastised him for that but Alfred didn't take any notice). He inhaled deeply and stubbed the cigar out whilst exhaling the smoke in Ivan's direction.

"Whatever you say, Commie."

Ludwig rubbed his temples and was about to say that that was all for the day and it was a pleasure meeting with them both etcetera, but Ivan cut in first.

"Communism isn't something that hides underneath your bed or in your cupboard waiting to get you when you're asleep. In fact I think it'd be beneficial for you, Alfred."

"You'd like to think so, wouldn't you?" Alfred spat.

"Mr. Alfred—"

"I just think you have to ask yourself what Capitalism has ever done for you. The answer comes to you quite easily, yes?"

"Fuck you, Braginski."

Having heard enough of their useless prattle, Ludwig got to his feet and slammed his hands down on the table. Both Alfred and Ivan promptly fell silent, though the American didn't look at all resigned. Ludwig was sure that if he was given another chance to jump down Ivan's throat he would take it and run.

"Enough! Alfred, you were here needlessly today and you've been uncooperative and arrogant. Ivan, I might add, you haven't been much better – this conference wasn't about forcing our ideals onto others. I want you both to get up, shake hands and get out of my sight quickly and quietly. Is that understood?"

Alfred rolled his eyes and got to his feet, muttering darkly to himself. He reluctantly held out his hand, not bothering to look at Ivan at all.

The Russian got to his feet also, a placid smile on his face, and shook the American's hand thoroughly. Alfred pulled his hand away, a little less than graciously, and told Toris to come along.

"Don't worry, comrade," Ivan said once Alfred had gone. His grip on Ludwig's hand became impossibly tight as he continued to shake it. "Once everyone becomes one with Russia, you won't be hearing any more of his empty nonsense."

Ludwig knew exactly what Gilbert meant when he said that Ivan's smile never reached his eyes.

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**TBC...

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**Oh yeah, I'd like to thank everyone for the support of the last chapter. I actually received the most reviews for it out of the previous chapters...I wonder why? XD thanks a bunch!**

**The Golden Era (1923 - 1929) - or the _Goldene Zwanziger _is the time period the story is in now. Thanks to good ol' Gustav Stresemann, Weimar Germany saw a decrease in civil unrest and a boost in economic conditions. He issued a new currency called the Rentenmark which put a stop to the hyperinflation (I was going to explore that in these chapters but I didn't know how to write it in), and the people were like 'you're so awesome' and he was like 'I know :D'. I'm not sure if I've already mentioned this (I'm too lazy to look now), but in 1924 the Dawes Plan was created between the German government and the American banks, which helped Germany keep up with the reparations. **

**In 1925, the Ruhr was evacuated and the Treaty of Berlin between Germany and the USSR (Dear Mother Russia) was established. But I'm sure that the Treaty of Berlin was signed in 1926. I think my history book is lying to me. Either way, it was basically like a refresher for the Treaty of Rapallo in 1922 to say that everything would be swell between the two nations, they would be civil to one another, and each pledged neutrality in the event of an attack on the other by a third party (say England or France for example) for the next five years. Ch'yeah, right, look what happened in 1939. But we'll get to that eventually ;D  
**

**America had also signed a Berlin Treaty with Germany earlier on, but I had Alfred there in that chapter just for a bit of drama. Oh man, Communism was such a dirty word in America during the 20's. That's why Alfred was being such a bitch. And I like Ivan being all creepy :D **

**Hope everyone liked that chapter. Again, many apologies for the lateness. With any luck, the next chapter should be starring dear old Roddy and Nippon-san! :D**

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**_Until next time..._  
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	10. Of Anger and Audacity

**A/N: there's no excuse for the lateness of this chapter. D: I'm really sorry I promised Japan but Gilbert and Roderich just had to make my life hard by not shutting up. But I _did_ say old Roddy would make another appearance, and there's plenty of him. So from now on, I promise I won't promise anything unless I know it for certain XD**

**There's not too many notes at the end of this but I think you'll enjoy this update anyway! **

**...**

**I do not own Hetalia**

**...  
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**Chapter Ten: Of Anger and Audacity   
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Sensible was not a word in Gilbert Weilschmidt's vocabulary. Ludwig said it all the time, at least fifty times a day – Gilbert, that's not sensible; Gilbert, you should try to be more sensible – and sometimes the Prussian mentioned the word, but that didn't know he knew exactly what it meant. However, if somebody asked him to point out sensible, he would direct them to Roderich Eidelstein.

There were other words starting with 's' that Gilbert could think of to describe the Austrian, too. Like sissy-boy and stick-in-the-mud. Gilbert could think of another expression involving the word 'stick' and in which cavity of the body it was located, too.

But Gilbert wasn't there to insult him (alright, he was just a little but so what?) – He was there to talk. Not that Roderich was making any attempt to actually say anything to him. He'd greeted him at the door, enquired after his and Ludwig's health (albeit a little disinterested and coldly), led him into his music room and proceeded to play the piano. He mentioned something about expressing himself by playing it but Gilbert had no idea what he was on about. He got the feeling that their little get together wasn't going to be a pleasant affair.

After at least a whole century had passed, Roderich stopped playing, but he didn't turn around.

"Please get up and do something, Gilbert. I can feel you staring at my back and it's unnerving, especially when I'm trying to play."

"I would but, you know, there's this thing called entertaining your guests, telling them why they're here, maybe? Ever heard of that?"

"I was getting around to it," Roderich replied stiffly, if not a little sulkily. "There's still another movement left. Now if you please."

Gilbert rolled his eyes and rested his chin on his hand with a huff. He could appreciate good music as much as the next person but seriously, not when there were important matters to discuss. Oh, it probably wasn't as important as Roderich made it out to be – he probably invited Gilbert over just so he could bitch at him like he always did.

Another ten minutes later (Gilbert was amazed at his capacity to be patient – he was definitely the epitome of mature these days) the Prussian got to his feet and sauntered over to the Austrian, placing his hands firmly on his shoulders. He watched as those slender fingers ghosted delicately over the keys and pressed down to play a few lingering notes before he curled his fingers to form loose fists.

"I'm not able to concentrate when you do that either, Gilbert."

"Fine," Gilbert huffed, dropping his arms with childish exaggeration. "I'll just listen to you from up here until you tell me what I'm supposed to be doing here."

Before Roderich could protest, Gilbert perched himself atop the piano. The Austrian simply glared at him and then decided to ignore him completely. He looked back down at the keys, his eyes more settled, relaxed and familiar, as if he was staring into the face of a very old and dear friend. Not taking kindly to this, Gilbert put his foot down on the keys, a loud and unceremonious sound rising from the instrument.

"Let's just cut the crap, ok, Roddy? I don't know what the hell you're saying with your music and I'd appreciate it if you'd hurry up and tell me what you need to because I have something very important to attend to." Someone very important. The afternoon was already late and Gilbert was getting more and more anxious as the time passed.

Roderich sighed and gave the Prussian's leg a rather harsh smack before getting to his feet. "That was entirely uncalled for, you idiot. But I suppose I couldn't have expected somebody like you to understand my more meaningful ways of communication."

Gilbert rolled his eyes, rubbing the spot where the Austrian had hit him with a frown. "Well then, if you knew that your music would be lost on me why'd you even bother in the first place, wise-arse?" Why did he have to insist on being such a difficult bastard all the time?

"I just thought it would be easier. I don't think you'll like what I'm going to say to you." Roderich folded his arms and watched Gilbert with a violet-coloured seriousness that made him feel as though he was being backed into a corner with no means of escape.

"I never like what you have to say to me but that hasn't stopped you in the past." Gilbert tried to match and better Roderich's gaze but he found it was hard to look at him. He just knew he was going to say something that he wouldn't like, and it wasn't just going to be Roderich being nit-picking-Roderich either and that's what bothered Gilbert the most.

"It's about Ludwig. I don't like how you're handling him, Gilbert. And no, I'm not trying to cause trouble or criticise you because although you're nothing but an arrogant hooligan, you've made Ludwig into a very strong and capable person."

So it was Ludwig then? But of course. Roderich knew that mentioning Ludwig to Gilbert would get under his skin in ways that no other subject (war, money, politics or even an alliance with another nation) could, and it made him sweat under the collar just a little. "You may not like it," Gilbert countered, brushing off his discomfort, "but what can you do about it? I've done nothing less than give him everything I have and you know it."

"That may be so, but," Roderich said, his quiet voice armed with a razor sharp edge. "Your relationship isn't normal. I know it's not normal, Gilbert."

The Prussian felt his heart sink slightly, his insides twist, and he became uncomfortably hot all of a sudden. "What do you mean 'not normal'?"

Although the Austrian was digging at him in all the right places, Gilbert still managed to look him in the eye. He glared, silently challenging him to go there. "West's my little brother."

"Exactly. Ludwig is your little brother. And that's all he is, isn't he? That's all he should be, shouldn't he?"

Roderich's face seemed to change and Mariazelle twitched upwards slightly (perhaps in quiet victory) and if Gilbert didn't know any better, he would have said that the bastard was smirking at him without the snide tell-tale curve of his lips.

"So you want to play that game, do you? You think you know something that I don't – that's all good and fine, but why don't you enlighten me? What would you know about Ludwig that I don't?" Damn it. He couldn't help but become defensive when it came to Ludwig, especially when they were so sinfully close to becoming a lot more than that. But so what if Roderich thought he knew something? Gilbert could easily just drag him down off his high horse and say that he had nothing to hide. Besides, he knew he was still seeing Elizabeta from time to time when he wasn't supposed to be. Ok, so he didn't have concrete proof, but he could smell perfume. Yes, dearest old Roddy was a fancy-pants-nancy-boy, but Gilbert highly doubted that he would go as far as to wear women's perfume. Besides, it was far too flowery and sickly sweet and it made Gilbert want to gag, so naturally it had to belong to the Hungarian.

"I payed him a quick visit almost a fortnight ago. He acted quite normally so I wasn't particularly concerned for his wellbeing – but that was until I mentioned you. And do you know what he did as soon as I said your name?" Roderich unfolded his arms and placed his hands on his hips, watching him critically and expectantly.

Gilbert shrugged. "Opened his mouth and told you how much of an awesome brother I was?" He offered somewhat sarcastically. How was he supposed to know what his brother did when Roderich mentioned his name? Even if the bastard's evident satisfaction in watching him resort to nonchalance and being a difficult pain in the arse in defence was unsettling him more than it should have, he wouldn't throw him the bone he wanted.

"Not exactly. He blushed, Gilbert; his face went bright red and for a moment he was unable to look me in the eye. Now I know Ludwig isn't rude or disrespectful, so he mustn't have done it intentionally. Do you have any idea as to why he may have not been able to look me in the eye?"

"He couldn't stand the sight of you any longer and had to give his eyes some comfort and relief?" If he was interrogating his little brother as much as he was interrogating him, then his statement could have been perfectly true.

"Not quite," Roderich huffed. Good – Gilbert was getting on his nerves. Surely (and hopefully) if he just pushed him a little further, he would snap and tell him to leave. "The reason I believe he reacted in such a manner is because you have bewitched him. Ludwig is in love with you, Gilbert," Roderich finished with a curt nod, as if he knew he was right. He looked hard a Gilbert as if to say, go on and tell me I'm wrong.

Well, that's just what he would do. The crimson-eyed nation smirked and let out an indignant snort. "I hate to tell you this, but your reasoning is fucked. How could West be in love with me? We're brothers – it's not right for brothers to be in love with one another, is it?" Gilbert felt a sharp pang of guilt but largely suppressed the urge to show what effect his own words had on him. Roderich was watching him like a hawk and was likely to pick up on any twitch or flick. Of course it was wrong for brothers to be in love with one another, Gilbert knew that. And yes, perhaps he had bewitched him as Roderich so cleverly put it, but he hadn't done it intentionally. He hadn't meant for Ludwig to fall in love with him, and he hadn't meant to fall in love with Ludwig. But they were happy, and Gilbert had no intention of hurting Ludwig in any way and he had always vowed to protect him no matter what and this was only strengthened by the fact that now they had something stronger yet still so fragile between them. So what business did Roderich have in any of it? What did he care if they were in love? It wasn't as if they had the same blood or could produce an inbred nation-child, so what had his disgustingly-frilly cravat in a twist?

"So you say. Gilbert, if it is true, then it has to stop. Whatever you're doing—"

"Hold on just a minute. You think I'm forcing him into being in love with me? You have no idea what you're on about."

Roderich coughed at this. It was more like an incredulous barely-concealed laugh, actually. "Really?"

"Yes, really." Gilbert folded his arms, only just realising that he was still on top of Roderich's precious little piano. Well, he must have been intent on getting what he wanted if he hadn't snapped at Gilbert for it. Too bad – Gilbert wasn't going to budge.

"So you're saying he isn't in love with you?"

"No – he's not in love with me."

"Well, if that isn't the case, he must be hiding something from you. Perhaps he's in love with somebody else and is too afraid to tell you?" The slightly bored tone of Roderich's voice indicated that he didn't believe that.

"I doubt it – I'd be happy for West if he fell in love with someone." He highly doubted that he would have been able to say that with such conviction had he not been in love with Gilbert.

Roderich opened his mouth to say something but closed it again. Gilbert allowed himself to get a little more comfortable. Maybe the bastard ran out of hot air? Maybe he realised he was wrong? Not that he would admit defeat (he always had been stubborn whenever it came to admitting he got his arse thoroughly (and deservingly) kicked), no; that would be too easy for him. Too humiliating, too. He probably thought that just because he was living comfortably, being rich and rolling around in silk sheets whilst Gilbert and Ludwig and pretty much everyone else around him were only just making it, he could be better and win every argument every time.

Gilbert was about to crow when the Austrian visibly relaxed and smiled a little. It was actually a very sick little smile that made Gilbert tense again. "What?"

"Nothing – I was just going to say that perhaps he really is in love with somebody else. How about little Feliciano Vargas? They do have a history, you know."

"You're wrong," Gilbert snapped hastily. He instantly regretted his outburst when Roderich quirked his eyebrow in shallow amusement. He inwardly cursed himself for so easily taking the bait, but he wouldn't let Roderich win. "They don't have a history, not as far as Ludwig's concerned. And what would he want with somebody like that whiny little pasta freak anyway? He's probably weaker than you are." The urge to stick is tongue out at the Austrian was almost too great. "No; West would fall in love with somebody so much better than that. But that's beside the point. Why do you even care? What West does in his own time is his business. Is Austria really that boring and pathetic that you have to stick your head into our private lives?"

Roderich's left eye twitched but he managed to shrug, folding his arms back over his chest. "Perhaps; perhaps not. I'm just concerned about Ludwig, Gilbert, and I just wanted to make sure he was alright. I want what's best for him; I've always wanted what's best for him. And I've always thought that you being his guardian hasn't always been good for him."

"That's bullshit, Roderich." Gilbert jumped off the piano, making sure to hit more of the instrument's keys as he went. "I just think you're jealous."

"Jealous?"

"Yeah, jealous." Gilbert crossed his arms to match Roderich's stance. "I've been able to hold onto Ludwig for so long and I know that he'll never leave me or betray me. You could never hold onto anybody for very long now, could you? No. Not little Feliciano, not dearest Elizabeta, not Antonio, and not that trigger-happy psycho. My relationships have always been strong and I've always been strong. I've never needed anybody to carry me home when I couldn't manage to win one single war, and I've never needed anybody to lean on. Face it – West would be disappointed if he had you as a big brother, whereas he's never had to worry about being ashamed of me."

Roderich glowered dangerously at Gilbert. "And what do you think will happen when you're all alone, Gilbert? What do you think will happen when everyone you love leaves you? You won't know what to do. I've been hurt and it's made me stronger. Ludwig will hurt you one day, Gilbert – he will see you for what you really are eventually, and he won't be able to stand the sight of you. How about you face this – you're not a nation anymore, Prussia isn't a nation anymore, and you'll be of no value to anybody, including Ludwig."

The Prussian saw red as his slowly bubbling anger boiled over and flared viciously inside his veins. He lunged at the Austrian, grabbed hold of his velvety blue jacket and threw him against the piano, a disjointed melody of protest rising from the keys and from Roderich's throat. "You listen to me," he hissed, pressing Roderich against the instrument roughly. "You have no fucking idea what you're talking about. Ludwig will never ever leave me – I'll always have him and he'll always have me. He's mine and he belongs to me and nothing will ever change that. I'll always be stronger than you, I'll always be better, and I know that that gets under your skin and keeps you awake at night, but you'll have to learn to live with it. Austria will fall before the memory of Prussia fades; you'll see."

Roderich simply smirked, but there was something strange floating there just behind his eyes. Gilbert thought it looked a lot like disgust. "You're obsessed with Ludwig, aren't you, Gilbert? The thought of him being with others makes you scared, doesn't it? I wonder how often Ludwig sees this side of you. I wonder how close he would be to you if he found out that you talk about him as though he's just a meaningless piece of property?"

Gilbert lifted Roderich up only to slam him back down again as hard as he could. "He's never given me a reason to show him this side, and I doubt he ever will." He let go of Roderich's coat and abruptly turned away to leave. How was it that he always knew which buttons to push? It didn't matter what they ended up discussing, Roderich would always find a way to hurt him. Gilbert supposed that it really was because he was jealous. It made sense that he cared about what happened to Ludwig – he was his neighbour after all and he'd known him for a long time.

Much longer than Gilbert had.

And it scared him. Gilbert didn't want his little brother to remember anything except for the time he had spent under the Prussian's care. It scared him that one day Ludwig would wake up and remember everything. It scared him because Roderich was right – Prussia wasn't really a nation anymore. Germany was there instead – it was Germany everybody talked about, not Prussia.

It wasn't that Gilbert resented that his brother had grown, no, not at all. He just resented that one day, he might just become useless, that he might just disappear and no one would care or remember him at all.

And he scared himself more than anything else. He felt dirty and wrong telling Roderich that Ludwig was his, that Ludwig belonged to him, but in the deepest blackest part of his heart it was how he truly felt. He was afraid that his feelings went beyond those of love and compassion, and that they did, in fact, venture further into the darker boundaries of obsession. But that could have been Roderich's words twisting his thoughts. Fuck it. Gilbert pushed Roderich's voice out of his mind and concentrated on the road ahead of him. In just a few short hours, he would be able to see Ludwig. He would be able to kiss him, taste him, touch him. He would have Ludwig in his arms; he would have him moaning his name.

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**TBC...**

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**Not too much went on this chapter, I know (like I said, they wouldn't shut up), but there's still notes~ :D (and I totally lied; there's plenty of notes XD)  
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**Even though it was the Golden Era, the people of Germany were still suffering. The Austrians, however, were doing pretty well for themselves, all things considered. In 1925 the Krone was replaced by the Schilling and later it was known as the Alpine dollar because the currency was stable. **

**Gilbert was pretty much being an arrogant bastard - Prussia was capable of losing, too. Just not as many as France or Austria. **

**What else can I tell you? OH. Well, how about some history about Austria and Hungary (oh god.. I actually.. I actually like a het pairing? In Hetalia? NO WAY..)? Here goes:**

**The Ausgleich 1867, between the Austrian Empire and the Kingdom of Hungary. This Compromise provided for a sovereignty for these two nations under Franz Joseph I. The Austrian-Hungarian empire included various Slavic groups including those from Croatia, Czechoslovakia, Poland, Serbia, Slovakia, Slovenia and Ukraine, as well as Italy and Romania. This proved to be difficult when trying to rule the Empire. **

**When Archduke Franz Ferdinand was assassinated in 1914 (on my birthday XD), leading Austrian and Hungarian politicians used it to persuade good old Joe I to declare war on Serbia, which in turn prompted the outbreak of the First World War, which led to the dissolution of the Empire. In short, dear old Roddy and Elizabeta got a divorce. Somehow, I don't think they wanted a divorce.. D: oh well. That's just what I think. **

**When Gilbert refers to Roderich having lost Antonio, he's basically mentioning the end of the Hapsburg/Habsburg Monarchy or Empire (I see it written both ways?) with the Spanish branch of the house. I think you guys may have known that, but you know. I like to deliver the notes so you're not like "What do Spain and Austria have to do with one another?" They have A LOT to do with one another, thank you very much. **

**And the trigger-happy psycho? You know it - Switzerland. Come on, that's so basically canon next to Austria/Hungary and Spain/Austria. **

**Now here's something special for all my readers:**

**I've decided that the 93rd and the 100th reviewer for this fic will get a oneshot from me. Yup. I just want to thank everybody for their support so far (the reviews, the favs, the alerts, the quiet stalkers...) and I need to get my inspiration back. My holidays are coming up in two short weeks, so I will have the time to update this fic plus write those oneshots for those particular reviewers. I've never had 93 reviews before. Nor 100, for that matter, and I think I might have to wait for the 100th review but just so you know, there's a oneshot waiting for you there. Oh, gosh, if this sounds like a bribe, it's really not. No, I get a great amount of reviews for each chapter, and I just want to share the looove~ **

**So, you lucky two reviewers, the oneshot can be any pairing, any rating, any kink, any genre. Only, I refuse to write RoChu on principle. Sorry.**

**Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed chapter 10!

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_**Until next time...**_


	11. Zu Liebe

**A/N: Finally, an update. Well, an update of an update. I was really unhappy with how this chapter turned out the first time so I have been working on it on and off since. It would have been updated earlier but you know how it gets when Christmas time rolls around. And then New years. And then studies and assignments. Ughhh ;_; graphic design is killing me! Hahaha. **

**This chapter has been a challenge for me even though you'd think some things would be really easy to write – trust me, I make things a lot more complicated than they have to be all the time. But, I am making it up to you with the goodness of Germancest in this chapter. AND JAPAN. Finally.**

**I would like to congratulate and thank The Nightstress and losing-my-sanity for being the 93rd and 100th reviewers for this. I love all of my reviewers so much ;_; I didn't think I'd get so much support for this when I first started, so thank you all. And also, thank you if you're still with me. **

**Also, you may have noticed that this chapter isn't following with the 'Of something something something" as the title – I've decided that the story has moved into a whole new stage so to mark this, I'm now going to be using either singular words or other. Whatever comes to me when I post the chapters is usually how it goes so we'll see what happens. ^^ This chapter is called Zu Liebe, which means 'To Love'. **

**I am sorry for the extreme lateness of this update. The next chapter will be a while away, but the good thing is that I'm getting back into writing for Hetalia again. I want to finish this fic more than anything else!**

**Enjoy the Germancest goodness~ **

**...**

**I do not own Hetalia**

**...**

* * *

** Chapter Eleven: Zu Liebe**

A rare yet not unwelcomed silence permeated around the room, alleviating some of Ludwig's stress. It was the first time he was able to sit down and get some work done without any distractions for a while now, and he was more than determined to make the most of it before Gilbert made an appearance.

Ludwig swallowed and gripped his pen tightly as he worked through the documents. He felt warm and it wasn't an entirely unpleasant feeling. He clenched his jaw and tried to push it from his mind. He wouldn't allow himself to become nervous or think irrationally.

But it was difficult to suppress these feelings. He couldn't still the nervous pace of his heart beat, he couldn't help but worry. Making love for the first time to the man who raised him and whom he'd called _bruder_ for the past two and a half centuries wasn't something small and insignificant that he could ignore without much else thought. Ludwig let out a frustrated sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. If only he could allow himself to relax for just _one moment_...

Gilbert was always telling him how much he loved him and he'd been protective (overbearingly so at times) and it made Ludwig feel good about himself. He had made up his mind that he wanted to and was going to give himself to Gilbert. Perhaps it would make the Prussian see that Ludwig wanted him and only him, and that he didn't have to worry about anyone else. The German wanted to be able to talk about Feliciano and Roderich without worrying about upsetting Gilbert. He wished that it didn't have to be like that; Gilbert should have trusted him enough to know that he would never hide anything from him. He never wanted lie to his older brother, and if he had in the past, it had been unintentionally.

_Enough_, Ludwig told himself. _Enough_. There was no use in needlessly worrying about something that wasn't going to happen until later on that night. For the time being, there was a pile of paperwork that required his undivided attention. Picking up his pen once more and pushing everything else out of his mind, he set to work, starting to feel himself relax little by little. Sometimes there was nothing more soothing than listening to the scratching of a pen against paper, the wall clock ticking quietly in a precise, measured rhythm.

Just as Ludwig finally found his momentarily-lost work ethic, his phone rang, the tinny ring startling him and reawakening his nerves, setting them further on edge than they had been earlier. He wouldn't have been surprised if it was Roderich calling to tell him that he would need to repay him for yet another piece of furniture Gilbert destroyed. With a resigned sigh, he placed his pen down and answered the phone.

"_Hallo_. His is Ludwig speaking."

"_Good evening, Ludwig-san. This is Kiku Honda speaking. How are you this evening?_"

Ludwig curled his fingers around the receiver a little tighter. It had been some time since they'd last exchanged words and he couldn't say that they were on perfect speaking terms. Not to say that it was Kiku's fault, but he was too passive and he didn't directly say what he wanted or what he meant which Ludwig found rather infuriating. "Fine, thank you. Are you well?"

"_Yes, very well thank you. How are you and Gilbert managing? I know the others asked a lot of you after the war."_

"We're managing well. Our people have been struggling but things are getting better."

"_I'm happy to hear that."_ An awkward silence fell between the two and Ludwig could hear the very slight tap of fingers against wood. "_I was hoping that I would be able to speak with you about something,_" Kiku said finally.

"Of course."

"_I would like to be direct with you – I believe that we should work together again and renew our friendship. I've always thought that Berlin and Tokyo were good friends and we should affirm the relations we once had. I think Gilbert-san would approve, too."_

Ludwig leant back in his chair, brow creased in a frown. Gilbert and Kiku had been friends before Ludwig even knew where Japan was on the map. But he had sided with Francis and Arthur during the war when he could have been on his side instead, so it was only natural that he should question his proposal. Even so, on the other hand, it wouldn't be such a bad thing to have more friends; especially ones outside of Europe that didn't judge him based on what Francis said and weren't on his back about what happened during the war.

"I'm not certain; I would have to think about it."

"_I understand if you aren't trusting of me,"_ Kiku said with a sigh, though he didn't sound defeated. _"But my people and my government are willing to leave the past behind and start again. I'm sure you're ready to do the same."_

"Germany is ready to do so, yes," Ludwig said hesitantly. He didn't have many people on his side, and he would like to know there were people who didn't think he was a bad person. "But if it is your honest intention then I am ready to do so, also." He could hear the slight smile in the other's voice on the other end.

"_May I take that as an official 'yes', Ludwig-san?"_

"Yes, of course."

"_I'm glad. Prime Minister Reijiro wishes to visit Berlin in a few months time. I will be coming along, of course."_

"I look forward to seeing you then."

"_As do I. I promise you won't regret your decision. I imagine we'll become very good friends in time."_

Ludwig agreed, although in the back of mind he was thinking, _I certainly hope so_. The last thing he needed was another repeat of the past one hundred years.

"_Forgive me, Ludwig-san, but I think we must leave our conversation here for now. It's getting late here and I'm sure you have work that needs to be finished."_

The German gave a short slight, almost-humourless chuckle. "My work is never finished."

"_Katō-sama once told me that a man's work always seems as though it's never finished, but a nation's work _is_ never finished. Goodnight, rest well."_

"Goodnight, Kiku."

Once he hung up the phone, Ludwig gave his papers an unenthusiastic glance before looking up at the clock to see it was just past three. His heart started to skip a beat here and there and the makings of a hurricane of butterflies was swirling inside his stomach. Gilbert would be home soon. Getting to his feet, he decided he'd better clean the house a little. Not that Gilbert would appreciate his efforts or anything – he just didn't want to be distracted when the time came by knowing there was a pillow that had to be put back up in its rightful place on the lounge or a glass that still had to be put back up in the cupboard.

As he made his way down stairs and started to tidy, there was a loud knock at his front door which made him start just a little, his heart starting to pound just that little bit faster. Gilbert didn't usually knock... but sometimes there was just no way of knowing with that brother of his. Ludwig wouldn't have put it past him if he did knock and turned up in an embarrassingly formal suit, baring a ridiculously feminine bouquet of flowers. Or just ones he'd pilfered from his garden. The German shook his head – even on a very special occasion Gilbert didn't go to that much trouble.

When he didn't answer immediately, there were a series of quicker raps, louder than the first couple had been. Ludwig smoothed his hand over his hair and loosened his collar a little before opening the door.

"Ludwig!"

The blond took a little step back, shocked slightly by the outburst and by the fact that it wasn't Gilbert standing there. No, instead of his older brother there was Feliciano, all smiles and practically bouncing on his toes. And standing just behind him was...what appeared to be the Italian's exact carbon copy. Only his hair was just a little darker and he had the most unbecoming frown on his face. Ludwig could only assume that they had to be related.

"Feliciano. What are you doing here?"

"Lovino and I came to visit! I know it's a little bit late and I didn't call ahead but I didn't know Ludwig's number and we haven't seen each other for a long time!" Much too excited to stay still or wait for an invitation to come inside, he skipped past the German, pulling Lovino along with him. The other Italian nudged past Ludwig and glared at him over his shoulder.

"This isn't the best time, Feliciano," Ludwig said, watching as Feliciano looked around his living room, pointing out various pieces of furniture and art to Lovino who appeared to be less than pleased to be there.

"Yeah, you heard what he said, Feli. Come on," Lovino said, his voice a lot harsher than Feliciano's, his accent slightly different, a lot richer.

The younger Italian turned to them, his face falling slightly. "I only wanted to say a quick hello, Ludwig. Can we please stay for a little while?" His cinnamon coloured eyes were pleading and it was like all the almost sickly-sweet innocence in the world was inside them. Ludwig found he couldn't bring himself to tell them to leave.

"Alright." He put his hand on his forehead, trying not to show his exasperation.

"Thank you, Ludwig! Oh, I almost forgot to introduce you to my older brother. This is Lovino." Feliciano bounded over to his older brother and pulled him into a tight hug. "Isn't he cool?"

"Get off me, bastard!" Lovino tried to push Feliciano away but to no avail. Instead, he directed his gaze to Ludwig, eyes narrowing in a petulant glare, the expression on his face even more sour than before. Feliciano nudged him, prompting him to speak.

"Say hello, _fratello_."

"Eat bullets, potato freak."

Ludwig's eyes widened slightly, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to find something to say. He wondered why he was even surprised that such a bad tempered individual would say something like that. "I-It's a pleasure to meet you too," he finally managed to utter incredulously. Perhaps it wasn't an uncommon thing for somebody to be rude to a complete stranger in their own home in Italy. Not uncommon for Lovino it seemed, at least.

"That was really mean, Lovino," Feliciano scolded, letting his brother out of his grasp as he put his hands on his hips, as if he was just as shocked as Ludwig was, having no idea that his brother would react like that. "Even though he looks scary and like he'd squish you like a bug, he's really nice and he's my friend." Ludwig felt his cheeks flush slightly, a little awkward when their eyes met briefly. Feliciano looked away, his cheeks a little pink as well. "I really like him, so you should, too."

The German wondered why Feliciano's innocent and kind words made him more embarrassed than Gilbert's rude comments did. His older brother could be completely raucous and lewd at times, but Ludwig supposed he'd become used to it. Having something genuinely nice said about him like that was unexpected and he wasn't sure how he should have handled it. Perhaps if Lovino hadn't been present he may have returned the compliments, even though he didn't know the Italian well enough to say something with as much conviction as Feliciano had. But despite his forwardness, he seemed every bit as embarrassed as Ludwig was so maybe he wasn't used to saying those things as Ludwig wasn't used to hearing them. He couldn't help but remember that day where Feliciano had helped him when Francis shot him, how he'd told Ludwig that he reminded him of somebody he used to know. He found himself hoping that Feliciano wasn't thinking of using him as a replacement for the person he'd lost, but he highly doubted that. That didn't seem to be in his nature.

"Say," Lovino began, breaking Ludwig from his thoughts. "Why don't you talk about me like that? Go on; tell the macho jerk about how cool I am, why don't you?"

"...Uhm..." Feliciano frowned slightly, nibbling on his lip slightly in concentration. However, Lovino's patience quickly dissipated before he could say anything else.

"You're such a bastard! I'm leaving before this god damned potato brainwashes me too!"

Before either Feliciano or Ludwig could say anything more, Lovino stormed out and slammed the door shut, the bang reverberating around the room. Feliciano automatically went into his crying and apologising mode. Ludwig had forgotten about how easy it was to upset the Italian. "It's alright; it's not your fault," Ludwig tried, patting Feliciano a little awkwardly on the shoulder. Whilst he was drying his eyes on the cuff of his sleeve, the German took a quick glance at the grandfather clock on the opposite side of the room. Three-thirty. Gilbert would definitely be close...

"Are you expecting somebody?" Feliciano sniffled.

"Gilbert's coming over soon, that's all. I was just checking the time." _That's all._

"Oh." Feliciano's face fell a little, though he covered it up with a hopeful little smile. "Do you want me to go?" Why did such an innocent, simple-to-answer question sound so loaded coming from him? Ludwig didn't want to have to tell him to go. They were friends and even though he knew what Gilbert was like and he didn't want to upset him, he wanted to have Feliciano stay so they could talk about anything other than what was happening in the world. Even though he was a pain and a bit overbearing, Ludwig wanted to know Feliciano better. The thought of Gilbert arriving when the Italian was still there, however, was enough to make him hesitate and reconsider his answer. Gilbert would take it to heart and he would most likely sulk about Feliciano being there without him knowing. Ludwig had to wonder why his older brother was so suspicious of such an innocent little thing like Feliciano. He wasn't a threat to Germany (being brutally honest, he was actually rather useless) or to anybody else, so why did he worry so much? What was Feliciano going to do to hurt him or them both?

"I'm not sure. I wasn't really expecting anybody over so early."

"Just for a little while? I promise I won't make a mess, and I promise I'll be good." How did Feliciano manage to make him feel so bad about thinking about turning him away? Perhaps it was the fact that he was offering his friendship so blindly and hoping only for Ludwig's in return. That's all he was asking for, it wasn't too much.

"Alright, just for a little while. We'll have to organise a time when we don't have any prior engagements and we can spend the whole day together if you wanted to."

Feliciano looked as though he was going to burst out of his skin in excitement. "What about tomorrow?"

"Well—"

"Oh, is Gilbert staying over tonight? I suppose you'll be spending tomorrow with him, too, then. How about next week? You can show me around Berlin properly! I've always wanted to explore Berlin~"

"Next week sounds good."

"Ve, I'm so excited!" The brunet wrapped his arms around Ludwig and started jumping up and down excitedly. "Thank you Ludwig!" Before Ludwig could say or do anything, Feliciano was already bounding back into the living room, making himself comfortable on the lounge by the window. "Come on, Ludwig! Sit down with me!"

"Would you like anything to drink or eat first?"

"Only if you have pasta," Feliciano piped up, unable to keep still.

Ludwig felt as though he wanted to be annoyed, but he couldn't help his amusement. "Sorry, no, I don't have any pasta."

"Well in that case, I want Ludwig to sit down with me." Feliciano patted the opposite cushion on the lounge, the silly grin on his face growing as the German complied. "It's been a while hasn't it? I've been really busy painting and cooking lately and I just forgot all about visiting," he said sheepishly.

Ludwig wished that he'd been busy doing leisure activities instead of making sure everything was going exactly how the Allies wanted. "It's alright. I've had plenty of paperwork."

"That sounds tough," Feliciano sighed, scooting closer so he could rest a reassuring hand on Ludwig's shoulder. "I could help you if you wanted. But I don't know if I'm any good at it. Lovino always takes care of my stuff because he says I'll probably mess everything up."

The blond frowned slightly. Lovino didn't sound like a particularly good older brother.

"It's alright, you know," the Italian said, eyes fixed on the small line between Ludwig's eyebrows as he frowned. "I'm used to it. Besides I wouldn't want to destroy my home. That wouldn't be very good, would it?"

Ludwig wanted to argue that no, it wasn't alright, but didn't say anything on that subject. He didn't know Lovino and he didn't want to offend Feliciano. "Your idea was good – you could help me with my paperwork and that way I could show you how it's done."

"I was right about you. You are really nice." Feliciano smiled slightly, though it looked as though he didn't want to. "I don't know why Lovino didn't believe me. But he's always so angry about everything and doesn't like it when he can't boss me around. That makes him sound like a bad person, doesn't it? He's really not – we were just separated for a very long time and he's probably just upset that we didn't get to grow up together."

Ludwig didn't know what to say to that. All he could do was return Feliciano's sympathetic gesture by placing his hand on the other's shoulder. Somehow, he felt less awkward and allowed himself to relax a little. "But at least I have a friend like you and as long as I know how good you are, then it doesn't matter." His forwardness was going to take some getting used to, though. It was strange that he could say such things when they'd only met twice...

"Thank you, Feliciano."

"No problem. Well, I did say I would only be here for a little while so I should probably go. Lovino will probably be wondering why I didn't come after him sooner."

Ludwig walked Feliciano to the door where they stood awkwardly for a few moments before the brunette broke the silence. "At home, friends usually hug one another goodbye but you don't have to worry about it until next time. Maybe you can practice hugging Gilbert goodbye and then you'll be really good at it. Bye, Ludwig!"

The German waved slightly as Feliciano skipped off down the road, whistling a cheerful tune as he went. Once he was out of sight, Ludwig sighed and ran a hand over his slicked-back hair, wondering whether being friends with Feliciano would always be so tiring.

* * *

The clock in the middle of the square chimed on four, the heavy ringing weighing down on his anger. God, he hated Roderich _so much_. He regretted not damaging him further back during the wars when he was on his knees, barely able to draw a breath. He regretted not hurting him more when he had him pinned against his beloved piano just before. That bastard made him so livid, so much more than anybody else ever had or ever could; he could barely even look at him for more than five seconds without wanting nothing more than to wrap his hands around his throat and squeeze until he was begging for mercy.

"_Scheisse_," Gilbert swore angrily under his breath and kicked an empty liquor bottle across the cobblestone, glass shattering when it collided with the rise of the footpath/ He took a deep breath and willed himself to calm down. Tonight was going to be special, it was going to be all about Ludwig and he and he certainly didn't want that aristocratic germ ruining his mood – he was supposed to be elated, not murderous. He didn't want Ludwig to have to worry about Roderich, either, especially not when he'd figured out what was happening between them. Well, he had been close enough to it. No, Gilbert was not going to let what the Austrian had said make either of them feel guilty about what they had – he didn't have the right to dictate their feelings, it was none of his business.

So, exhaling slowly and unclenching his fists and his jaw, he allowed himself to relax. Tonight, he was finally going to get what he'd wanted for the longest time.

When he reached Ludwig's house and let himself in, he noticed the house was cleaner than usual. Everything was so perfectly straight – Gilbert practically twitched with anticipation to mess something up just to see if Ludwig would notice. On his way through to the living room, he tilted the picture frame on the very end to the right slightly, smirking triumphantly as he scoured the room for any sign of his brother.

"Gilbert is that you?" Ludwig's voice startled him as he was in the process of turning the matching pillows on the lounge so that one was tilted so it looked like a diamond whilst the other sat like a square.

"Yeah, it's me," Gilbert said, going to the foot of the stairs to see Ludwig coming down, clothes a little crumpled, some of his hair out of place. He looked worn out, but his face lightened with a wry smile.

"Who else walks into my house uninvited without announcing themselves?"

"Hopefully no one else. How about you come here and greet me properly?"

Once he was close enough to touch, Gilbert took hold of Ludwig's wrist and gave his arm a gentle but impatient tug. "How was your day?" he asked, pulling Ludwig into an embrace when his brother reached the foot of the stairs. "Did you punch Braginski in the face for me?"

"It was fine." The German pressed his lips against Gilbert's temple, tightening his hold around his brother's waist. "Ivan was well-behaved unlike Alfred Jones, not that he wasn't provocative. He knows that he's not well liked."

Gilbert snorted. "That's an understatement if I ever heard one. It sounds like you handled it well, though. I knew you would," he said distractedly as he placed one hand on the back of Ludwig's head so he could run his fingers through his hair. He leaned in to nuzzle against the smooth curve of his neck, inhaling his scent, his body already starting to feel warm. Ludwig's breath hitched a little as Gilbert continued his ministrations, his grip tightening more still around his brother's waist, craning his neck slightly, inviting him to touch more of his skin. Gilbert placed a gentle kiss against Ludwig's growing pulse before pulling away so he could look into those icy blue eyes. "You're perfect; did you know that?"

The blond's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly, shaking his head slowly. "Nobody's perfect, Gilbert." His cheeks were flushed a brilliant pink.

"Perhaps not, but to me you are." Leaning in, before Ludwig had the chance to protest further, Gilbert pressed his lips against Ludwig's, fisting the hair at the back of his head with one hand, pressing his palm firmly against his broad chest, feeling his heart beat. Ludwig opened his mouth, letting Gilbert caress his lips with his tongue, nip at them with his teeth, before their tongues met and they fell into a slow and sensuous rhythm. Moments later they tapered off into a series of chaste kisses, though they were no less fervent or affectionate.

"Hey, West," Gilbert purred, running his hands down Ludwig's chest and sides, "do you think that maybe we could skip dinner for now? I'm not particularly hungry; not for food, at least." The sight of those kiss-swollen lips, parted as he panted slightly was a truly arousing one indeed, and it was all he could do to control the desire that had started to curl and smoulder in the pit of his stomach.

Ludwig nodded, his hands starting to shake slightly. "Do you mind if I have a shower first?"

"Whatever you'd like to do, West. I guess you must be tense from having to deal with everyone today." Having a nice how shower was a tempting thought, especially if they took one together. It would save water, after all... "I'll join you."

Ludwig's face went a brighter shade of red. "N-Nein, Gilbert, I would prefer to take one by myself. You'll only distract me."

Gilbert pouted a little before smirking. "I'm just joking with you. I'll be waiting for you."

Together they climbed the stairs silently, their fingers linked tightly. There was a thick silence hanging over them, and Gilbert wanted to laugh. He'd never felt so anxious, not even before a huge battle, or even the beginning of a war. He'd never had a reason to be anxious about those things, though. He knew his own capabilities, his soldier's capabilities, and all of them were victorious. What he was about to do with Ludwig was something he'd done many times over, but it was never really out of love. He loved Ludwig; he wanted Ludwig to be his and nobody else's. He'd wholly accepted his love for Ludwig, but that didn't mean that it wasn't still wonderfully terrifying.

The late afternoon sun poured through the bedroom window, colouring the room a fiery, passionate orange. Gilbert listened as Ludwig showered in the next room, eyes closed as he imagined the droplets of water running over his body, travelling down, down, down... The Prussian sighed and surrendered to the burning of arousal in his veins. He undressed and dove straight into Ludwig's bed (something he'd been told not to do a thousand times because eventually all the springs would break and he'd have to replace the mattress with his own money, but _never mind_) and settled himself down until he was comfortable. He clutched at one of the crisp pillows and inhaled Ludwig's clean scent, smirking because he knew the bed wouldn't be clean for much longer. If he could, he would make sure his own smell never left Ludwig's bed so he would always be reminded.

Minutes later, there was the sound of the bathroom door opening and the light being switched off. An electric eagerness spread through his body when he saw Ludwig emerge from the bathroom, his sculpted body highlighted by the sun, every beautiful dip and curve of muscle illuminated for Gilbert's viewing pleasure. He remained silent until Ludwig climbed into bed beside him, blue eyes more intense now than he had ever seen them.

"Hey there," he said softly, shifting closer until he could feel the warmth radiating from his brother's skin. He propped himself up on one elbow copying Ludwig's posture before leaning forward and capturing his lips in a firm, demanding kiss. Their tongues twined in a heated dance and Gilbert gently pushed against Ludwig's shoulder, guiding him down until he was lying with his back against the mattress. He placed one hand against the side of his neck and the other on his chest as he settled himself between his thighs, feeling how hard his heart was pounding.

"Don't worry," Gilbert said quietly, finding Ludwig's hand, bringing it to his lips. "I won't hurt you."

"I know..."

Gilbert kissed Ludwig's neck, letting his tongue press down against his pulse. He trailed his lips up and down the length of his neck before smoothing over his collarbone and across his chest. He delighted in the way Ludwig's breath came out in slow, heavy pants and the way he tangled his fingers into his hair when he flicked his tongue over a sensitive nipple, teasing the other with the pad of his thumb.

"Let me take care of you," Gilbert breathed on to his skin, shivering slightly as he ran both his hands down Ludwig's body, those muscles rippling beneath his palms. He traced idle patterns on his hips with his fingers as he kissed down his sternum and taut abdomen. "Let me take care of you always."

He kissed the inside of Ludwig's thighs, nipping and grazing his teeth along the sensitive flesh there, careful not to bruise him. He could still see the scars from the bullets and the shrapnel, and he could remember how he felt when he saw Ludwig lying there, when he returned to him after leaving again.

_Let me take care of you. Let me take care of you always... _

"Lift your hips for me." Wetting his fingers with saliva, he brushed a finger against Ludwig's entrance, teasing the muscle there with the pad of his finger, coaxing a groan from his lips. He pressed an open-mouthed kiss to Ludwig's thigh almost soothingly and started to move his finger slowly. "Tell me how it feels."

Ludwig opened his eyes and looked at Gilbert momentarily before dipping his head and closing his eyes once again. "It... it burns."

"It'll get better soon, I promise." He trailed his other hand over his body and through the slightly coarse blond curls, wrapping his fingers around his member. Ludwig groaned appreciatively, shallowly thrusting his hips forward, becoming harder as Gilbert started to squeeze and stroke him.

Gilbert increased the pace of his hand, applying pressure every so often, learning where Ludwig liked to be touched the most. He pressed the pad of his thumb against his slick tip, smearing the beads of pre-come that had pooled there, before trailing his fingers down against the underside of his erection teasingly, delighting in the delicious noises his brother was making. When his breathing started coming out in heavier pants, when he spread his legs a little, Gilbert knew he was close so he increased his attentions on his member as he slid another finger inside his body, groaning slightly in anticipation at how Ludwig reacted to the penetration. He was so tight and he could only imagine how mind-blowing it was going to feel being inside of him.

"You're unbelievable, West. Your body is amazing."

"_Gilbert_," Ludwig protested, embarrassed, and was about to say something else before his breath hitched and his body tensed, muscles tightening around Gilbert's fingers.

The Prussian didn't know how he was able to control his desire. He withdrew his regretting fingers and moved up to he could look Ludwig in the eye. To have his brother lying there beneath him was a gift, something he never thought he'd have the pleasure.

To his surprise, Ludwig put his own fingers into his mouth and touched Gilbert with his slicked fingers, making him sigh in appreciation. He didn't think he'd be able to last much longer so he took Ludwig's hand, shifted his hips and angled himself at Ludwig's entrance. He told Ludwig to hold on before placing one hand above Ludwig's head, the other on his shoulder. He brushed his lips against his temple, murmuring words of comfort as he pressed himself inside a little way with a moan. It felt like he was dreaming. He had to be dreaming...

The German arched off the bed and fisted the sheets hard as Gilbert pushed himself further until he was completely sheathed inside of his body. He paused for a few moments, allowing them both to adjust to this new level of intimacy, his whole body pulsing with heated excitement. "Please move," Ludwig murmured, settling himself back down onto the mattress. He rolled his hips slightly with a groan, giving his older brother physical permission to move. Gilbert didn't need to be asked twice.

It started slowly, a few gentle thrusts building into a steady rhythm, but neither of them could wait. Gilbert's need kept escalating and he wanted to be closer still, to have more, to be completed. Each roll of his hips buried him deeper, brought him closer to the edge, to breaking point. He reached down to hold one of Ludwig's hands, bringing it up so it was resting above their heads, leaning down so their chests were almost touching. Ludwig's hot breath caressed his shoulder and each sound that escaped his lips was driving Gilbert into blinding rapture. He loved the way his brother rested his hand on the base of his spine, fingers pressing into his back as he sought to increase the pace of their movements. He loved the way their bodies fit together so perfectly; it felt so unbelievably right, as if Ludwig's body was made for Gilberts, and Gilbert's body was made for Ludwig's.

"I love you, Gilbert," Ludwig gasped out between laboured breaths.

Gilbert reached down between their bodies to touch his brother, those words throwing him into a frantic fever. He hoped Ludwig was almost there because he was so, so close he could almost taste it. His brother squeezed his hand tightly and moaned his name when he came and when his muscles tightened around Gilbert, he was swept away by the blinding suffocating pleasure of climax.

Once the intense shocks of ecstasy started to die down, Gilbert fell onto the sheets, his breathing starting to return to normal, his heart slowing into a regular rhythm once more. He turned his head to see Ludwig looking up at the ceiling, his breathing still yet to slow, his skin seeming to glisten with sweat as the last rays of dusk poured in through the window. The Prussian didn't think he'd seen anything so beautiful in his whole life. He didn't know why, but his heart skipped a beat, as if seeing Ludwig for the first time, and then he realised that there was no amount of words that could even begin to describe just how much he loved the man lying beside him.

Ludwig turned his head soon after so he was facing Gilbert and his expression softened. Everything Gilbert had ever wanted was right there. Although he hated to think about him at a time like this, Roderich had been so, so wrong about them. He knew Ludwig would never hurt him, would never leave him – it was all there inside his endless blue eyes. They loved one another and nobody would ever be able to take that away.

* * *

**Alrighty, here's a short history lesson after quite a long chapter:**

**As everyone knows, Germany and Italy are BFFs when it comes to WWII. Italy had entered war against Germany in WWI, but the outcome of this wasn't so great, so the Fascists gained power and Benito Mussolini became Italy's boss in 1922. It isn't until the late 1930's where we see any agreements between Germany and Italy, but I thought it would be good to establish a friendship beforehand. It's also good for Prussia's jealousy and possessiveness~ :3**

**As for Japan and Germany, their contact dates back to the 1800's, where Japan had more dealings with Prussia than Germany. Their relations were fairly strong until WWI when, in short, Germany wanted to expand its colonies into East Asia (as did most of Europe), which didn't please Japan at all. So basically, Berlin and Tokyo weren't the best of friends. Things started to look up though when the German Ambassador to Japan, Wilhelm Solf, initiated cultural exchange, resulting in the re-establishment of the German-Japanese Society in 1926. Due to his efforts, the Japanese-German Cultural Society and the Japanese-German Research Institute were later founded. **

**Hopefully you all enjoyed the 11th chapter, and I hope it was worth the wait!**

**_Until next time... _**


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